


What a Bricky Girl She Is

by Scarlett_Lamour



Series: Leather and Lace [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, F/M, Gore, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lamour/pseuds/Scarlett_Lamour
Summary: Beatrice and Arthur travel together while the uncertainty of their future hangs over her head.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Charles Smith/Original Female Character, John Marston/Original Female Character
Series: Leather and Lace [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935988
Comments: 27
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

“I think I want to name her Strawberry.” Beatrice said, her eyes on her horse rather than the road. Ahead of her, Arthur glanced back over his broad shoulders to appraise the red roan she rode. Beatrice grimaced when she realized how simple a name that was. 

“She is a sweet creature.” Arthur admitted, letting his drawl drag out the words. There was a smirk to his face that she just caught before he turned his attention back to the road. 

“Well, maybe just Berry.” She didn’t hold any illusion that once they reached their destination Arthur would take the roan back. Probably sell her. But it seemed more like self harm to not enjoy herself while she could. After all she’d been through. Her eyes were studying his back as they rode along the road. He was whistling a song now, he did that when he felt relaxed, she had learned. 

One day he’d leave, she knew that. He had said he’s stay with her until she got back on her feet and they were riding to a good start at that. She was dreading when the day came that he left, but he wasn’t hers to keep. So she pushed that thought down and ignored it as best she could. Dwelling on the unpleasant didn’t help a thing. 

They were only a couple days out of Blackwater, still had maybe a month’s ride ahead of them. Mostly on account of the Grizzlies between them and their destination. It would be slow going he had warned her. As hellish as camping out could be, it was better with Arthur. 

The sun was sitting low on the horizon. Arthur had showed her how to tell how long before it set, holding her hand up to the horizon and counting fingers. She did it now, three fingers. Arthur would probably be telling her they needed to pitch camp for the night soon. 

“Suppose we should set up camp soon.” Arthur drawled and Beatrice smirked to herself. While not much of a talker, he had become so easy for her to read. It pleased her. Their horses pulled off the road to camp beside a small boulder that poked up out of the ground. 

“I’ll get the fire started, you go grab some game for dinner.” Beatrice said as she slid out of the saddle. Arthur pulled his rifle from the holster on his saddle and tipped his hat as he rode off. 

She had discovered she like setting the fire. It was a nice feeling of control. Gathering kindling and tender from what she could find and then coaxing the flames to life. It was beautiful to watch as she waited for Arthur to return. He usually found something small, there wasn’t need for much. 

As she sat, the sun set and the light around the fire dimmed until she couldn’t see past the light it cast. It kept her warm, even though they were nearing the foothills. Arthur had insisted she buy a heavy coat and warm clothing before they left and her remark that ‘he could keep her warm’ had been met with a blush and a shake of his head. The thought made her smirk and she was looking forward to sharing his tent tonight. 

A twig snapped behind her and Beatrice looked over her shoulder to smile at Arthur as he stepped into the light. But it wasn’t Arthur. He wasn’t steady on his feet, and his face was scruffy and dirty but his face was burned into her memory and she’d never forget him.

Rupert Edwards.

Disgraced, banished from his home, penniless and drunk enough to think tracking her down was a good idea. Beatrice scrambled to her feet only for Rupert to throw himself at her. He was all rage and anger, no finesse to his movements and she struggled against him as he yelled incoherently at her. 

Beatrice glared up at him as he slammed her hands into the ground. She was certain she could burn a hole through his skull with her gaze if she tried hard enough. HIs hands slammed against her throat and squeezed. As her vision started to go spotty, her hand scrambled around for anything she could use. Her fingers closed around a rock and with a high arc she slammed her hand and rock into the side of Rupert’s head. He cried out, clutching his face as he fell to the ground. 

When Arthur walked up, Beatrice was straddling Rupert. Again and again she brought the rock down on his face, a feral snarl all that came out of her as she rendered him disfigured. 

“Trixie.” Arthur said, surprised and worried as his hand pulled at her shoulder. Rupert wasn’t moving and his face was too bloody to really see what damage she had caused. “Trixie, he ain’t getting back up.” His voice was quiet, soft. Beatrice finally managed to stop herself, panting as she looked down at her gory work. A manic kind of relief flooded her.

“Bastard!” She screamed at him. Arthur’s grip turned tight and he dragged her up, off the corpse. “Bastard!” She screamed again, kicking at a limp leg as Arthur pulled her away.

“He’s dead, Trixie. He’s dead. You got him.” He kept repeating, pulling her struggling body against him. 

“How’d he find us, what is he doing here?” She screamed into his shoulder. Arthur’s arms were tight around her, stilling her thrashing against his chest. After a long moment she stilled, her fists clutching handfuls of his shirt. Her breath came in shuddering gasps that slowly returned to normal and Arthur held her out to look her over. 

“Did he hurt you much?” His eyes darted over her form, lingering on the redness of her neck. Beatrice took a moment to assess before shaking her head. 

“No,” She swallowed hard and found it difficult to get down. “No, I think I’m okay.” He tilted her head back to look her in the eyes. It took a moment for him to agree but eventually his eyes softened and he let out of heavy breath. Once the tension seemed to leave, he looked over her shoulder to Rupert. The corpse was laying still beside the fire.

“You sure got him good.” Arthur let go of Beatrice and moved to stand over the dead man. “Can’t hardly tell he ever had a face.” A rough laugh came out in a bark and Beatrice turned away from him. It had been a total loss of control in her and she couldn’t find it in her to be too disappointed with herself.

“I’d say that,” Arthur pulled a bottle out of his saddle bags and held it up. “Deserves a drink.” Popping the cork out, he took a swig and. held it out to her. She took it and took a long drag, whiskey running down her chin before she finished. Arthur nearly snatched the bottle away from her, keeping his eyes on her as she sat down hard beside the fire. 

“Trixie.” His voice was tight and he sat next to her. 

“I ain’t ever killed someone before.” She said, staring into the flames. 

“I know, but if there was someone I’d be glad is dead it’s that asshole.” He jab a finger in Rupert’s direction. “You were defending yourself, there ain’t nothing wrong with that.” 

“I know.” She did, she was just surprised at how easy it was accept. Taking a deep breath that made her shoulders heave, she looked to him. “What do we do?” Her eyes flitted to the prone man. “With the body?”

“Why are you asking me?” Arthur scoffed, trying to sound indignant. “you think I know a lot about disposing of bodies?”

“Yes.” She asserted and Arthur snorted, taking a short swig of the liquor. 

“Well, you’re right. I’ll handle it.” He brushed dirt off his pants as he stood up. “I got us a pheasant, why don’t you get it going while I take out the trash.” Beatrice found the bird where he pointed. He must have dropped the game when he saw her beating Rupert. 

Grabbing the corpse by his heels, Arthur dragged the body off into the darkness and she couldn’t even hear him after a second. She sat by the fire, plucking the bird as well as she could before spitting it over the fire. By the time Arthur stepped back into the firelight, it was dripping fat into the fire and sizzling. He looked a bit dirtier for his work but none worse the wear. 

“Smells good.” He hummed, poking at the bird with his knife. His shoulder pressed up against hers as they sat, watching the fire together.


	2. Chapter 2

They stopped at a small little town, called Strawberry. Beatrice blushed a bit as she saw the name of the town and thought about what she wanted to name the little roan she rode. Arthur led the horses outside of the hotel in the town. It really was small, hardly an entire road. From the hotel, she could see the gallows of the town and it made her swallow hard. She’d never been one to really enjoy a hanging.

“I’m going to go check the mail, I think my friends might have sent me a letter.” Arthur said as he hitched his horse. Beatrice paused, her hand still on the roan’s reins. Of course, she’d seen him writing to his gang. She knew he’d kept in contact with them since they’d started their travels so many months ago. Something close to fear seized her heart at the idea that they might take him away from her. Foolish thought, he was never hers to begin with. Shaking the dark worry in her chest away, she hitched Berry and gave a nod to Arthur. 

“Of course. Good news, I hope. I’ll go get us a room.” She gave a smile as he nodded before walking off. The clerk didn’t even bat an eye when she asked for a room and told him her husband would be joining her shortly. Oh dear, that rolled off her lips far too easily. As she carried the saddlebags up to the room, she wondered if she truly even wished to be married or if it was just a comfortable thought when Arthur was concerned. _If we were married he wouldn’t leave me..._ A selfish thought that she was annoyed with herself for having. 

The way Arthur shouldered the door open when he returned, hunched and scowling, Beatrice knew it wasn’t good news. He slipped a letter into his vest and straightened himself up to look her in the eye.

“That asshole must have gotten real talkative when drunk.” Arthur scowled down. “Seems every crook and thief in a ten mile radius knows how much money you’re carrying.” Beatrice’s eyebrows wrinkled with worry as she looked down, wringing her hands. 

“That’s real bad, ain’t it?”

“Oh yeah.” Arthur laughed but there was no humor in it. He rubbed at his chin for a moment as he thought. “Would you be okay if I asked a few friends to join us? Just as backup?”

“Do you trust them?” She asked.

“With my life.” 

“Then of course.” It was easy enough to place her trust in his decision. Arthur’s shoulders relaxed a bit and he smiled. 

“Good, cause I already sent them a letter. We’re gonna hang out here, right next door to the sheriff's office, for a few days until they meet us.” A soft chuckle left him as he peeked at her from under the brim of his hat. 

“Well, that sounds like a safe enough plan.” She didn’t ask how he had managed to find the talk among the crooks of the town so quickly. It seemed like something he would just know how to do. “Whatever will we do for a few days? I didn’t see a saloon in this town.” Her smirk felt too strong and she knew she should tamp it down, but they were alone in a room for once. Arthur blushed in response, pulling his hat from his head and setting it on the dresser beside the door. 

“I’m certain you’ve already thought of a few things.” Beatrice crossed the room as he spoke and reached around him to grab his hat, plopping it down on her head. 

“Well, if your friends are going to be joining us there won’t be much alone time, will there?” Her hand trailed up his shirt, popping open the button over his collarbone. Arthur swallowed, face still flushing as he flicked the brim of the hat.

“We’d have our own tent. In the gang we live in close quarters, they’re used to turning a blind eye. You’d just have to be a little quiet.” His hand was warm as it slipped along her jaw. 

“So let’s make some noise tonight.” Beatrice turned her face into his palm and let her lips brush against the calloused skin. 

“Only if you wear the hat.” Arthur said, making Beatrice snort in laughter at him. “Come ‘er.” He slipped his arms around her, one under her rump, as he hefted her up and tossed her into the bed. Standing over her at the end of the bed, he began unbuttoning his shirt. Unable to contain herself, Beatrice was quick to mimic his motions and begin undressing herself. 

“We should take a bath, I saw a sign at the front desk. I bet if we asked real nice, they’d let us share a tub.” Arthur grinned as his gun belt dropped to the ground. 

“Practically scandalous.” Beatrice reached out, hooking her fingers in the top of his jeans and tugging him closer. Her lips traced a line up his stomach and chest until she could kiss his neck. Arthur let his hands slide up her corset, fingers fumbling to untie and let it loosen until he could get it off her. Her chemise bunched up under his hands as he rucked it up over her breasts. His breath caught in his throat as he looked her over. 

“Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you.” The words rumbled low in his chest as a thumb ran over her quickly hardening nipple. Beatrice let out a breath, her eyes closing as she let her forehead rest against his shoulder. 

“Arthur,” she breathed his name, “I need you.” His hand slipped up into her hair, tightening just a bit. 

“Anything you want.” Their lips met as he pushed her back into the mattress. Beatrice parted her mouth, searching for his tongue as they kissed. Her hands scrambled against his jeans, fumbling while trying to push them off his hips. Arthur finally took pity on her and rolled to his back, shuffling out of his clothes. 

Before he could return to her, Beatrice scrambled on top of him, straddling his waist. A half laugh was forced out of Arthur as she landed on him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, thumbs rubbing circles against her hips. One hand slipped between her legs, teasing at her slit before grazing across her clit. A moan came out of Beatrice and she rocked her hips against his hand. 

“That’s my girl, let me hear you.” Arthur crooned. Beatrice reached down between her legs, finding him hard and ready for her, already leaking. Lining him up, she sank down slowly onto his shaft. She hissed as he stretched her, filling her. Her hips began rocking on him, Arthur’s thumb still circling her clit. Unable to contain himself, he began rutting up into her as she found her rhythm. Her cries mingled with his as they rose with her climax.

Suddenly, Arthur’s hands tightened on her hips and pulled himself free of her to spill across his stomach with a growling cry. He held her tight, taking a moment to catch his breath before looking down at his mess. 

“Sorry, darling.” Beatrice was gasping for air as he set her on the bed and rolled off the covers to grab a towel beside the pitcher of water on the dresser. 

“I feel like I should be flattered.” She said between breaths, watching Arthur as he wiped himself off. “You couldn’t contain yourself.” He tossed the towel to the ground before climbing back into bed. 

“Oh, never can around you.” He grinned as he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged across the sheets to him. Kneeling between her legs he crouched until his face was buried in her core. She gasped as he dragged his tongue up her still soaked slit. Beatrice curled around him, her hands buried in his hair as Arthur reached around her thighs to hold her down. 

Heat in her gut rose, spreading through her chest as she coiled tight. Her cries bounced off the walls of their room and she struggled to breathe as she finally found her release. By the time she was floating back down, Arthur had already pulled the covers over them. Beatrice sighed with a smile, her head nestled against his shoulder. 

“That seemed pretty good.” Arthur said, his hand stroking through her hair. She murmured an agreement, sleepy and too comfortable to stay awake.


	3. Chapter 3

The next two days were pleasant, spent mostly enjoying each others company and earning annoyed glares from the clerk at the front desk. Arthur would thoroughly exhaust her then sketch in his journal as she lounged in bed. It felt lazy and she couldn’t bring herself to think badly of it. She rolled over on the bed and propped her head up on one elbow. 

Arthur was lounging in a chair, legs propped up on the dresser by the bed as he sketched. Neither had bothered dressing yet and she let her eyes roam along the thick muscles of his legs as they stretched out. It was hard to believe how pleasing he was to her eyes. Surely it was a sin. She could drink him in forever. 

“You’re staring.” Arthur said, not looking up from his journal. 

“You drawing me, aren't you?” She asked. He hadn’t shared a drawing with her yet. The way he’d dip his head and look away when she asked, it seemed obvious he was embarrassed by his hobby so she didn’t press. 

“What makes you think that?” He asked, grinning at her. Pulling a pocket watch off the dresser, he flicked it open and checked the time. “We should probably put clothes on. My friends should be here soon.” 

“And it would be ill bred to meet them in our birthday suits?” Beatrice asked, forcing herself to leave the comfort of the bed to begin dressing. 

“Aw, if John saw you in the nude I’d have to kill him.” He joked as he watched her pull on clothes. His laugh was thick and warm, she loved hearing it.

“Have they come very far to meet us?” Beatrice asked as she settled her corset around her waist. Arthur finally set his journal aside and stood up, looking about for where his clothes had been scattered. 

“Oh, not too far.” He said, not really paying attention as he found his pants. “We should be getting on once they arrive. Can’t wait much longer if we’re going to make it over the Grizzlies.” The packet of warm clothes he had made her buy was still in her saddle bag, a warning of the hardship that was coming. 

The thought of his gang members joining them only served to remind her that their relationship had an expiration date. Would he leave sooner, if his friends were here to remind him of the life he was missing while with her? 

“Was John one of the men with you when we met?” She was buttoning her blouse now, glancing over as Arthur shrugged into his suspenders. Her annoyance at them when they first met had kept her from really paying attention to the men. There had been two others, but they had bandana up so there was no chance she could really recognize them. But they would be able to recognize her. 

“Uh, yeah. He was.” Arthur said, pausing to think as if it was difficult for him to remember. “Was him and Dutch.” 

“Is Dutch coming out, also?” She was mildly curious about them, even if they would take Arthur from her. Arthur snorted and shook his head, finding his hat and setting it on his head. 

“God, no. Another friend of mine, Charles is coming too. They’re trustworthy.” Beatrice raised an eyebrow at how quickly he dismissed Dutch. Sounded as if there were a number of members of his gang who _weren’t_ trustworthy. Hard to imagine many outlaws she would consider trustworthy, but here she was sharing an intimate relationship with one so what did she know? 

Outside the hotel two men milled about, looking rather suspicious if Beatrice had a say. The fair skinned one looked dirty, leaning against the railing with crossed arms. He was lanky, dirty hair hanging in his eyes. She felt his gaze on her the moment she stepped out of the hotel after Arthur.

“Whew, you look a bit different than the last time I saw you.” John scoffed. His eyes shamelessly roamed up and down her figure. Beatrice scowled. 

“And you look much the same, though I’d wager you’ve washed your hands of the blood since our last meeting.” Her brows furrowed deeper as she glared at him. 

“I see your mouth ain’t any kinder.” John returned her scowl.

“I’d imagine your disposition isn’t any better.” The words came out like she was spitting them. Arthur laid a hand on her arm lightly, trying to pull her away from what was building to be a great fight in front of the hotel. 

“And this is Charles,” Arthur said, pulling her attention away from John. He motioned with his hand to a tall man, thick in the chest with muscle. His hair was a dark brown and hung down his back in loosely gathered waves. Beatrice took a breath through her nose to calm herself before setting a smile on her face and holding out her hand. There was no reason to let her bile towards John taint a new friendship. They were Arthur’s friends, after all. 

Charles smirked as he shook her hand, not gripping too tight. He seemed amused with her treatment of John and that pleased her. Perhaps John was annoying in general and it wasn’t just her.

“Miss.” He said, tipping his head while John pouted like a child. Charles voice was deep and smooth, a stark contrast to the scratchy snarl of John’s. 

“Well, Mr. Charles, thank you for coming along with us. Arthur assures me that we’ll be much better off with both of you joining us.”

“Arthur didn’t say why you had so much money on you.” John said suddenly, standing up straight. Arthur scowled at him hard but John seemed impervious to non verbal warnings. 

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t,” She smiled inwardly, Arthur was far too polite to speak her personal business past what was necessary. John waited a beat for her to elaborate and when she didn’t, he scoffed. 

“Suppose we should be getting on then.” He grumbled, stepping down the steps into the mud of Strawberry’s streets. The four were mounted up and riding before the sun was much higher in the sky and Beatrice felt they were making good time. 

“So, Beatrice was it?” Charles asked politely as they rode. Arthur had taken point, riding in front while John rode behind. Seemed a sensible formation if they were expecting to be waylaid but part of her would have rather had Arthur riding beside her than Charles. Maybe Arthur was the better shot and that was why he rode in front. She wasn’t exactly sure how to gauge an outlaws skills. Frustratingly, she had to trust other peoples opinions. 

“Yes, Beatrice. Charles, right?” She knew his name but tried to keep the conversation going. 

“Charles Smith.” He grinned and the pink scars pulled on the edge of his jaw. They were all scared up, weren’t they? Even John seemed to have a few deep ones dragged across his face. If they were such smart men they should learn to stop using their faces as shields. 

“You been with Arthur’s gang,” that felt weird to say. “Very long?” Charles shrugged at the question and glanced up at Arthur. 

“Not as long as these two. But long enough, I suppose.” 

‘Is it as exciting as those penny dreadfuls make it out? I imagine those things are filled with bald faced lies.” 

“Sometimes.” Charles smirked at her and Beatrice admitted to herself she liked the way he said it. 

“Arthur ain’t been regaling you with tall tales of the Van der Linde gang?” John called from behind. Beatrice scowled over her shoulder at him. 

“Did you have something to add?” She asked. John grinned up from under his hat and nudged his tall horse to ride on the other side of her. 

“I got plenty of stories to tell. I’ve been in the gang since I was 12, killed my first man when I was 13.” He was trying to intimidate her, or impress her she wasn’t sure which. Keeping a fairly light expression, she looked right up at him. 

“Oh really? Why I killed my first man not three days ago. Quite a shock, I would say.” She certainly didn’t feel as good about it as she pretended but she enjoyed the way John deflated a bit, chagrined.

“Yeah, Arthur mentioned something about that in his letter. What’d you do to him to make him so angry?” Beatrice couldn’t hold the light feeling and turned to look ahead on the road. Arthur’s broad back in front, rocking with his horse’s walk. 

“Ruined his life.”


	4. Chapter 4

“He ruined his own life,” Arthur’s voice called out. “You only put a period at the end of a sentence he’d already finished.” His tone was a warning that John actually seemed to heed this time. The outlaw pulled his horse up and dropped back to riding behind them.

They were riding through rough country now, rocky terrain as the forests gave way to the foothills of the Grizzlies. Snow started to appear on the ground as they rode, collecting in the shade of rocks and trees. 

“You got a coat?” Charles asked, looking at her blouse and skirts. Beatrice nodded, suddenly remembering the warm clothes in her saddlebags. Letting Berry chose her own way for a bit, she twisted in the saddle and rummaged through the large bags until she could pull out the heavy woolen coat Arthur had picked out for her. It wasn’t particularly showy but it was warm. Shrugging into it, she did the buttons up the front and settled into its warmth. 

“Arthur helped me pick out clothes. I’ve never been somewhere so cold.” She admitted. “Suppose it gets fairly cold in Coronado. Best get used to it.” 

“You going to a ranch?” Charles asked. Beatrice let her eyes wander along his body for a moment. His hands were absurdly large. 

“A homestead, more like.” She said. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the crumpled clipping she’d kept from the newspaper and held it out to him. “Got it all set up with the bank. I show up with the money and it’s mine. First time I’d ever own something.” Charles squinted at the paper, reading over the tiny print before nodding and handing it back. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.

“It sounds real nice.” He finally said. 

“Arthur’s sure it’ll be a dump but, it is what it is.” She said with a shrug. 

The landscape turned snowy as they rode. Whiteness covering everything in a perfect layer of cold. Beatrice was glad for the coat now, planning on putting on the other warm clothes once they stopped for the night. Her regular drawers were not enough to stave off the cold. 

Arthur decided, before it got too late, to set up camp under the overhang of a tree. It afforded some protection from the wind and snow. He was quick to set up a tent for her to change in while Charles and John worked on their own tents. 

“I’ll go gather firewood.” She offered, once she’d changed. Arthur nodded to her, while John picked up his rifle.

“And I’ll get dinner.” John offered, mounting up on his horse and riding off. Beatrice wondered where he would find game in all the snowy stillness but supposed he’d know better than her. 

A worry she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to camp as she tracked across the wilderness, but when she looked behind her a clear trail of footsteps followed her. 

“Well, that’s certainly convenient.” She muttered as she stooped to pick up fallen limbs beneath a small copse of trees. It was such an alien landscape for her, unlike any she had seen. What a wonder such places existed. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the crunch of footsteps in the snow. When she looked up again, she met a pair of brown eyes and a snarl. 

Wolves were approaching her and all she had was an armful of kindling. For a moment she froze, half bent with a twig in her hands. Three wolves were flanking her while one stood in front of her. Slowly, she placed the twig in her bundled and tried to walk away from the wolves. Every step she took, they menaced another step closer. 

There weren’t a whole lot of options for her now. If she ran, they’d chase. If she called out, they might attack. Surely they wouldn’t let her just stand there. Down the hill was a lake, ice flows covering half of it. Perhaps the wolves would be too timid of the icy water to follow her onto it. Could she outrun a wolf?

Keeping her armful of wood, she slowly walked backwards down the hill, feet slipping every now and again. The four wolves followed her, slow and methodical as they walked. It seemed an eternity of this slow chase before her foot hit ice and she realized she’d come to the lakeshore. To her ultimate horror, the wolves continued onto the ice as she walked. So much for that hope. 

“Help!” She cried, throwing her sticks at the wolves. They snapped and snarled, lunging at her as she skidded back across the slick ice. “Arthur!” In the distance she could hear a reply echoing but it seemed miles away. She couldn’t have wandered that far away, could she? 

Another step and her foot stepped backwards but there was no more ice to step on. Instead she simply sank at first, before toppling backwards into the frigid cold water. Her arms flailed out, trying to grab for anything and finding nothing for purchase. The water was so cold she gasped even before she went under and when her head bobbed back above the water she could only breathe in short, panicked gasps. Not even able to call for help. 

A gunshot rang out and the wolves, who had been watching her struggle, scattered back into the trees. 

“Trixie!” She could hear Arthur screech her name but she couldn’t quite see where he was. The weight of her wool coat was dragging her down and she sank back into the black water beneath her. Fighting against the sudden exhaustion, she worked her leaden limbs as hard as she could until her head broke the surface once more. Again all she could manage were short gasps, not nearly enough to fill her aching lungs. She was losing feeling in her hands and feet, it was quickly getting harder to stay above water. 

Hands grabbed her coat and began hauling her out of the water. Once on the ice, she still gasped for air. Trying desperately to force herself to take a deep breath, she looked up to see Charles with a hand still wrapped around the collar of her coat. John was beside him in an instant and the both used her heavy coat to drag her off the ice and onto the snowy bank. 

“Fuck.” She managed to say, her teeth starting to chatter as rough hands were ripping her clothes off her. Logically, she was aware it was bad to continue wearing the water logged clothing but she still fumbled at their hands in a vain attempt at modesty. 

“Trixie, let us help.” Arthur’s voice was right behind her, and she tried to twist to see him but found every inch of herself stiff. As soon as they had rendered her bare Charles was wrapping his own coat around her. She kept her arms and hands close against her skin, underneath the enormous coat. It hung to her shins and was already warmed with his body heat. 

“Where’s the nearest cabin?” John asked, already mounting up on his horse. Arthur’s arms scooped Beatrice up and set her in John’s lap like she was doll. 

“Up the trail, hurry, we’ll catch up.” He didn’t wait to hear more before spurring his horse into a flat run through the snow, one arm holding her tight against him.

The cabin hadn’t been used in sometime, but the inside was mostly free of snow and icicles. Surely that counted for something. John carried her in. How a skinny creature like him could manage her weight and still open a door Beatrice didn’t know but he did. Dumping her on the floor beside the old pot bellied stove, he was working near frantically to get a fire going. 

“I seen men die in waters like that.” He said, almost angry. 

“You’re very encouraging.” Her teeth clacked when she talked and her words stuttered, unable to stop it. Drawing her legs as close to her center as she could, she kept curled in a tight ball. A wood box was against one side of the small cabin, somehow still full of fire wood and before another minute had passed John had a fire blazing in the stove. He fed it more wood before setting a couple logs beside it for easy reach. Sitting back on his haunches, he looked over at her. 

“Come here.” Grabbing her by the ankle, he dragged her to sit in front of him directly in front of the fire. He’d left the door of the stove open so the full force of the fire could fill the small cabin as quickly as possible. 

“Embers will jump out.” Beatrice warned, her voice still shaky. 

“Shut up.” John’s voice was soft, scared she realized. Scared for her. His arms wrapped around her and kept her pressed against his chest. “I ain’t got any blankets right now, but Arthur and Charles will have some. So you gotta make do with just me.” It occurred to Beatrice that maybe he was too afraid to leave her alone for the time it would take to find a blanket in his saddlebag. 

“You seen people die after you get them out of the water?” 

“No, but I seen them lose fingers. Here.” He pulled her stiff arms out of the sleeves of the great coat and spun it around her so it opened towards him. Keeping his hands polite, he opened his coat so she could share his body warmth. Charles’ coat acted as a heavy blanket across her back.

“Jesus, your hands are ice.” He cursed under his breath and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Once he’d opened the shirt, he shoved her hands against his side and swore again. Beatrice would have felt ashamed if she had the bodily warmth to blush. Instead she giggled in an odd stuttering way. 

“You going crazy?” John asked, and Beatrice shook her head before tucking it underneath his chin. The skin of his neck was hot as a brand against her face. 

“Arthur said,” it was hard to speak intelligibly. “If you saw me in my birthday suit he’d kill you.” Her laugh struggled its way out and John snorted. 

“Well, I ain’t seen nothing yet.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, underneath the coat, trying to draw warmth there. 

“What the fuck were you doing on the ice anyways?” He said, voice rougher than usual. 

“I didn’t think the wolves would chase me onto it.” She admitted. It sounded so foolish now but John didn’t scoff this time. The door of the cabin burst open and Arthur spilled into the cabin followed by Charles. The latter man held blankets in his arm and took care to close the door tight against the cold outside. 

“Want me to get up?” John asked Arthur, who took a minute to answer. 

“No, she’ll just lose more heat that way.” Instead, he took the blankets from Charles and bundled them around the two. “Trixie, you tell me if he gets too handsy.” That was all it took for her to lose it again and laugh. She was finding it easier to still her shivering, pressed up against Marston’s warm frame. 

“She said you already owe me a murder.” John said, watching Arthur as he stomped around the cabin

“At least wait to kill him until I’m warm, Arthur.” Beatrice said, managing to pull a smile to Arthur’s face.


	5. Chapter 5

Charles and Arthur strung up her clothes on a line behind the stove. Ice water dripped down in puddles on the floor beneath the wet cloth. Steam rose up into the air. By the time the clothing was hung, Beatrice was warm enough to sit by herself under the pile of blankets and coats. Charles had set a pot on the stove and was warming up food while Arthur was boiling water in a percolator. 

John had headed back out to finish catching meat. He had hurriedly buttoned his shirt as he slipped free of the warmth around Beatrice and jammed his hat down low before he stormed out. She had felt his arousal against her thigh and didn’t condemn his desire to flee as quickly as possible. 

“You can wear it as long as you need.” Charles had said when she’d offered him his coat back. The blankets seemed sufficient now, her hands were far less stiff and she wasn’t shivering anymore. It was a bit embarrassing to be bare under the coat and blankets but there was nothing to be done about it until her clothes were dry. The sinking feeling that it would be the next day before they were set in as she eyed the still dripping wool coat. 

“It’s a wonder you didn’t sink to the bottom in that thing.” Arthur said, following her gaze. 

“I’ve seen wool do that.” Charles said, stirring the beans in the pot. “It repels water until it doesn’t. And then it soaks it up.” John slammed into the cabin then, a gust of cold wind sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Looks like a storm’s setting in. We may be stuck here for a day or two.” He handed off a leg of something, maybe a deer, before setting his rifle by the door and rubbing his arms. “There’s a run in behind the cabin, we can keep the horses in there I think. Just got to keep the snow dug out right.” Arthur began carving meat off the bone and tossed it in with the warming beans. 

“You hang the rest of the deer up outside?” He asked without looking up. John nodded, moving to stand beside the stove and warm his hands. 

“It was already starting to freeze by the time I strung it up. It’ll keep and we’ve got some more canned food. Bea, you feeling better?” He asked, adjusting his hat as he glanced down at her. 

“Yeah. I got the feeling back in my hands.” She said, poking one hand up to wiggle the fingers at him. 

“Good.” He looked back to the stove. 

There were two beds in the cabin. One built into either back corner. They weren’t very big but even if they were, Beatrice couldn’t see any of the men sharing a bed. Maybe for the warmth, though. The small cabin was holding the warmth of the stove well, at least. 

“Beatrice, you and Arthur should share a bed.” Charles made the decision for her. “It’ll be warmer for you since your clothes aren’t dry yet. John, you can take the other bed. I’ll use my bedroll.” 

She hadn’t expected the quiet man to take charge so easily but John and Arthur deferred to him with no fussing. They were remarkably good at working together for outlaws. Maybe it was just the nature of a gang, a person had to or it wouldn’t work.

Arthur handed her a plate of hot food and a cup of hot coffee before sitting beside her. She kept most of her arms still covered as she ate.

“You gave me a scare, Trixie.” He admitted into his beans.

“Wasn’t particularly pleasant for myself.” The wolves had been far scarier than the water, if she could admit it. They had pulled her so quickly from the water she hadn’t had time to fear a frozen death. 

“Up here, food can be scarce.” Charles said behind them. He’d found chairs to sit on and was eating his own plate. His legs sprawled out and Beatrice watched him for a minute. “Wolves have to be hungry to attack a human.” 

“I imagine I looked like an easy meal.” She supposed she couldn’t really blame the wolves. He nodded in agreement. John scoffed as he helped himself to food. 

“Hate wolves. Awful creatures.” He grumbled to himself as he sat on the corner of one of the beds. 

She had grown tired quickly. Almost dying took it out of a person. The men had politely kept their backs turned when she had moved into one of the beds. Arthur had taken Charles’ coat from her as she burrowed under the covers and blankets. 

As the other men settled down for the night, Arthur laid beside her. He’d covered her with his coat before drawing a blanket over the both of them. She could feel the fear in him, still draining away and she curled as tight to him as she could. Trying to say _I’m okay_ without talking. 

“Don’t let Marston know, but I’m real thankful he was here. Him and Charles.” He said into the top of her head. 

“I’d like to let them know.” She said, her nose pressed against his throat for the warmth of it. Naughty thoughts passed through her mind at exactly _how_ she’d like to thank them. John’s hands running up and down her bare back had made her warm on the inside as well. Something in her voice must have given her away and Arthur peered down at her with a crane of his neck. 

“How exactly are you thinking of thanking them?” He asked, the tone of his whisper letting her know he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking. A blush spread hot across her cheeks and she buried her face against his chest, shaking her head to try and pretend she hadn’t meant it that way. 

“Hey,” Arthur’s hand slipped up to her neck, warm and solid. “You don’t owe them anything. They ain’t like that.” 

“No, I didn’t think of it like that.” She said, her words muffled against his chest. “I just, I don’t know.” Backing down from her idea, she tried to shove it in a box. 

“Well, if you wanted to do something,” The way his voice inflected up drew her eyes up to see his face. He wasn’t mad, at least. “You could just put on a little show. They’d like that.” 

“What?” Her mind raced as she tried to understand how a person could be that accepting. 

“They like to watch.” The words settled in her brain and she went slack against Arthur as she considered it. “You don’t owe them a thing, but if you wanted to do it, you could.” Ideas whirled around her head and she found herself growing warm in her guts at the idea. “Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Arthur continued but Beatrice stopped him by grabbing his hand and thrusting it between her legs. His words stalled as he felt the growing dampness at her core. An eyebrow raised and he smirked down at her. 

“Oh.” Sudden understanding blossomed on his face and he crooked his neck again to whisper in her ear. “They’d want to touch themselves, while they watched you.” His voice was rolling smooth like molasses through her ears and his hand started to work her up. “Watching you enjoy yourself, imagining they were the ones doing it.” With soft, gentle motions he began circling his thumb over her clit and her hips bucked against his hand. “Pulling their cocks out, stroking them as you took your pleasure. Would you want to enjoy yourself alone or with me?”

“With you.” Her words were rushed, hoarse and heavy with desire. A thick finger slipped between her slick folds and curled inside her.

“Oh, they’d try to make it last,” He continued, moving his hand just right. Arousal tightened in her gut, making her breath come fast and she pressed down against his hand for the most friction. Arthur slipped another finger inside her as he pumped in and out. “They won’t last long though, not watching you. Think of them spilling themselves all over their hands as they watched me take you.” The image he described flashed through her head and she had to bite down on a mouthful of Arthur’s shirt to stifle the moan that came out of her. Suddenly the arousal in her that had been building tight broke and she climaxed over his hand.

“Jesus, Trixie.” Arthur half laughed as he pulled himself free of her. “Don’t think that’s entirely about wanting to thank them.” He didn’t sound mad but she hid her face all the same. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, feeling confused in the wake of her climax. Arthur rubbed his scratchy stubble against her cheek.

“Don’t be. Nothing wrong with you.” He sounded so jovial about it. “I’ve heard some of the women at camp talk about having fun with more than one man. Don’t think it’s so strange.” Somehow that helped. “Just don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, alright? Tell me what you want and I’ll keep you happy.” Arthur sounded proud of that statement. Beatrice snuggled against him, throwing a leg over his hip and wishing he could be hers forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and Beatrice are both horny bitches right now.


	6. Chapter 6

When Beatrice woke next, she was unsure if it was morning or not. It was light outside the window but white with snow, so hard to tell the time of day. Her bed was warm and she was curled against Arthur so there wasn’t much to complain about. If she raised her head up and looked over Arthur’s shoulder she could see Charles tending to the stove, a pot of coffee already sitting on top of it. Embarrassed by her actions the night before, she lowered her head and hid her face against Arthur’s chest. He was snoring softly until she wiggled under his chin. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed her tightly before looking bleary eyed around the room.

“That coffee I smell?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Ready and waiting.” Charles responded. “Bea, you want a cup?” His eyes drifted past Arthur to where Beatrice peered around him. He didn’t look at her any differently, perhaps she had been quiet enough last night. 

“Yeah, I think so.” She said, shyly trying to stay behind Arthur. He left the bed though, the traitor, and stretched before moving to pour himself a cup. Charles smiled as he handed her a cup. She was forced to sit up and stip at it, still wrapped in blankets. 

“Think your clothes might be dry enough to wear.” He said, glancing over to the clothesline still hung up. A blast of cold air filled the small cabin and Beatrice shrank under her blankets. John stumbled in, snow trailing after him as he hurriedly shut the door and moved to shiver by the stove. 

“Horses are doing okay. I dug out some snow around the run in so it’s practically a snow barn now.” He beat his hands against his arms, tying to work feeling back into his extremities. Charles had moved across the small cabin to gather her clothes and handed them to her. He had such a warm smile, Beatrice couldn’t imagine him thinking badly of her. 

“Thank you.” She felt herself blush and looked quickly down at the dressings. 

“Here,” Arthur was quick to move, stripping a sheet from the other bed and hooking one corner on a protruding nail in the wall. He managed to hook it so the bed was hidden and then stood beside her, keeping the blanket up to give her privacy. Charles and John stayed back, polite as ever and Beatrice felt almost ashamed to have such lewd thoughts about them. They had been nothing but nice, then again perhaps that was the problem. 

“Trixie, now's not a bad time to talk to them.” He hissed in a low whisper. She was mostly dressed and felt her heart seize at the idea. Was she really going to do this? Arthur seemed to sense her trepidation. “It’ll be alright. If you want to do it.” Outside the wind was howling. They weren’t going anywhere for a few days. She nodded her head as she dressed, then looked up at him. His eyes were assessing her for a long moment. 

“Hey, fellas.” Arthur finally turned his attention back to the other men. “Trixie here wanted to show you her appreciation for all you’ve done for her.” She heard the men shuffle around but Arthur still held the sheet up, blocking her view. “If you two could find those chairs. Yeah, just sit down there.” The chairs scraped across the floor and the scuffling stopped. He looked back to her. She was finished dressing now. It was probably a better _show_ if she undressed in front of them. That seemed the sort of thing men liked. 

“You ready?” She nodded, taking a breath. “Alright. I”m going to go sit down,” He handed her the corner of the sheet and stepped away. Part of her fluttered in excitement. Dropping the sheet, she stood up. Charles and John sat at the front of the cabin, waiting with curiosity on their faces. Arthur sat closer to her, facing them. Stepping around his chair, she turned so her back was to Charles and John. 

Her face was flushed but she wasn’t embarrassed. Arthur smiled up at her, encouraging, as her hands went to her blouse and began unbuttoning it. She could feel their eyes on her back and the blush on her face spread down her neck, making her chest feel too warm. Tugging her shirt from her belt, she let it hang open and ran her hands over the chemise underneath. Arthur reached up to slip the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. 

“Do you want help?” He whispered. 

“Which do you think they’d like?” She asked. With a chuckle, he slid his hands down her waist to reach behind and untie her skirts. 

“I think at this point, whatever you want to give them they’d eat up like starving dogs.” It made her snicker, just a bit, and then her skirts were crumpled on the floor and Arthur was kneading her ass for a moment. She reached to untie the ribbon of her drawers to let them fall away. Arthur ran his hands up her side, bunching the chemise above her breasts and watching as the nipples pebbled in the air of the cabin. 

“And you, are prime rib.” He murmured as his eyes drank her in. After a moment, he untied the ribbon at her throat and pulled the chemise over her head. She took a breath and turned, bare before the two other men. They were sitting in the chairs, watching with rapt attention. John already had his hand on his crotch, rubbing against the rough fabric as he watched her. Charles seemed impassive but the bulge he sported was unmistakable. It certainly helped her ego, the way they stared. She had wondered what having a child would do to her body but apparently it had been a baseless worry. 

Arthur’s hands at her hips guided her back to his lap and he gently spread her legs so she was fully exposed. Even now, slightly self conscious, she was already growing wet. Somehow, this was exactly what she wanted. Her own hand strayed up to a breast, cupping it before moving to pluck at the stiff nipple. The other hand slipped between her legs. She was moving without thinking now, letting her body do as it wanted. Her head fell back against Arthur’s shoulder as she played with herself. Spreading her lips open, she gathered her own wetness on her fingers before swirling them around her clit. 

It was electric and her chest heaved with breath as she worked herself over. She’d never felt this excited so quickly before. It was a marvel. When she peeked at them through half opened lids, her breath caught and she couldn’t help the moan that left her. John’s legs were spread and he was slowly stroking his cock in long, languid movements. All the way down then all the way to the tip, finishing with a twist of his wrist before starting back down. Charles was relaxed into his chair, stroking his thumb over the end of his. It was thicker than she’d expected and her hands worked without thought as she watched him. Her hole ached and she wanted to be filled so badly.

“Arthur,” She murmured into his neck, grinding down on his bulge. “I need you in me.” She begged. Maybe it was unseemly to beg but she needed the stretch of him desperately.

“Of course.” His voice was thick. Lifting her up off his lap for a moment, he fumbled with his jeans before pulling his straining shaft free. With his hand on her hip to guide her, she moved to sink down his length. When her legs met his, she ground down a bit before adjusting herself. She felt so full in this position. Her feet barely grazed the floor with her legs spread open. Arthur thrust up into her and her breath caught around a cry of pleasure. His lips pulled bruises to her neck and she lost herself to the sensation of him slipping in and out of her. 

When her hands flew up to tangle in his hair, he took up the slack and began working her clit with his rough fingers. It was too much and not enough at the same time and her cries rose in pitch as she mumbled begging demands into nothing. Arthur’s arm encircled her chest, letting his hand knead at the soft flesh of her breast. 

“I’ve never felt anything softer than your tit.” Arthur crooned, rubbing her skin with his thumb. His hips snapped up into her again, forcing another cry out of her and making her scramble for a solid hand hold. 

“I want to feel you come on me.” He growled into her shoulder before sucking another bruise on to her skin. “Look at what you do to them, sweetheart.” She opened her eyes again and watched as John’s eyes squeezed shut. He moaned and gave a last thrust up into his fist before spilling his spend all over his hand. Beatrice’s breath stuttered at the sight and she looked to see Charles watching her intently. He was stroking himself fast now, his other hand cupping his balls as he rutted into his hand. 

She snapped on the inside, shaking as she cried out in release. Arthur thrust up as deep as he could go and held her there, nearly holding her off the floor. Trembling, she watched as Charles threw his head back with a guttural cry and spilled himself. Arthur moved both his hands across her middle and held her against him as she came down. It took ages for her to catch her breath and she felt Arthur grow soft and slip out of her as he waited. 

“I should do something for you.” She murmured into his neck but Arthur shook his head and helped her stand up so he could tuck himself away. 

“No, darling. This was for you.” He grinned. A warm glow in her chest made her smile and she quickly picked up her clothes to dress again. It was far too cold to stay naked any longer than necessary. 

“That was something else.” John’s scratchy voice said, reverent in tone. Beatrice blushed and looked away but couldn’t help how her smile grew. 

“You didn’t have to thank us like that,” Charles said. “But I’m glad you did.” He was out of breath as he tucked himself away. She hadn’t seen either man clean himself off, but she had been indisposed for a long moment. 

The mood in the cabin changed. It felt more relaxed and Beatrice wondered if the tense feeling had been all inside her head. _She_ felt more relaxed now. None of the men seemed to change their behavior.

Then John found a stash of liquor.


	7. Chapter 7

“Lookie here!” John called out, half buried under the cabinets at the front of the cabin. As he re-emerged, he held aloft two bottles of liquor still mostly full. “There’s another two bottles down there. This cabin’s not the best stocked but someone was prepared for a party.” His laugh was warm and set the bottles on top of the cabinets before diving in for the rest. There was enough for everyone to have their own bottle. Beatrice wasn’t much of a drinker, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. 

That was how she found herself in Charles’ lap, one thick arm around her waist as they all sang lewd songs together. Laughter filled the cabin and Charles felt so warm to press against. Like a second stove practically. 

Arthur and John moved chairs out of the way and started to wrestle on the floor between the beds. It seemed like mostly they just rammed each other into the sides of the beds.

“Looks like the beds are winning more than anything else.” Beatrice tripped over the words, her hand fisted tight around the bottle of liquor. Charles laughed again and held her arm up so he could look at her bottle. 

“You’re not much of a drinker are you?” He asked. 

“No,” She laughed in reply, she had only taken a swig or two and she felt much more bold. The others drank like fish and still seemed just a little tipsy like herself. “Do they always act like this?” Charles turned his body, keeping Beatrice out of the reach of their flailing limbs as Arthur and John rolled close. 

“Pretty much.” His eyes twinkled as he watched them then he turned to look her full in the face. “You really didn’t have to thank us like that.”

“I wanted to.” Did he think badly of her? Surely not. Not with the way his thumb was rubbing against her side, not with the way his eyes were warm as he looked at her. They were the most inviting shade of brown, she felt she could look at them all day. “I’m going to kiss you now.” The words tumbled from her lips before they had even reached her brain and she found herself surging forward. His lips were soft and so warm and he tasted like rum. 

Both massive arms wrapped around her, one hand snaking into her hair as he held her close. With a graze of her teeth, his mouth opened and Beatrice dove into him. He moaned into her mouth and she swallowed it down.The bottle nearly dropped from her hand and she broke the kiss to laugh at herself. 

It was then she realized the scuffling had stopped and Arthur and John were watching them. She cursed the liquor but knew she couldn’t blame that, she’d hardly drank anything yet. Her cheeks burned as she looked over at the two men. 

“Arthur,” She began and she felt Charles’ arms loosen around her. She was quick to stand and he kept a hand on her arm to steady her. 

“Trixie.” Arthur’s voice was calm, even. How could he not be mad at her? “It’s alright.” He raised a hand up as if to calm her. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to. And if you do want to, that’s alright.” He sounded earnest, she had to believe him even if she couldn’t fathom why. She’d never known a man to not get jealous over the slightest thing. Hell, Edwards had threatened her when other men noticed her. But there was the difference, wasn’t it? These men were nothing like that cad. 

Charles reached out to take the liquor bottle from Beatrice’s hand and set it on the floor beside the chair. He tugged gently at her wrist. A polite request. When she looked down at him, she could see his eyes watching her expectantly for the answer. The scuffling suddenly resumed as John tried to get Arthur in a headlock and failed.

Sinking back into his lap, her hands grasped at his jaw as their lips met. His own hands stayed around her waist, letting her make the decision for how much to do. It was such a wonderful feeling to be in control. Arthur was amazing, but Charles was different. He was still just as muscled but softer somehow. 

Throwing an arm around his shoulder to hold him close, she adjusted herself so she straddled his lap. Hardly breaking the kiss to come up for air, she felt like she could devour him if she tried. When she broke away again for a breath, he raised his hand to her shoulder. 

“I was going to ask if you were sure,” A bit of a mischievous smile snuck onto his face. “But you seem pretty sure.”

“I don’t want to hurt Arthur,” She gasped for air, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Looking over her shoulder she saw Arthur had John in a head lock and was jerking him around like a rag doll. “But I don’t think I will.” Charles shook his head in agreement.

“Do you want to take this to a bed?” He asked gently. How far did she want to take this? Now was the time to make a decision, and it was all up to her. For a moment she stewed in indecision before rocking her hips back and forth a bit. Charles grunted and she could feel his own excitement bulging between her legs. 

“Yes.” She finally said and Charles leaned in close to kiss at her neck, going over fresh bruises Arthur had left that morning. They stood up together and Charles took her hand, helping her step over John and Arthur as they wrestled. It seemed they were evenly enough matched to keep a game going for a while. 

Charles sat on the edge of a bed and Beatrice straddled him once against, her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. It was too cold to really stay undressed for any length of time, but it couldn’t hurt to open his shirt up a little, could it? His chest was broad and had the faintest dusting of dark hair across it. A few old scars littered here and there. He let her fingers trace over the scars she could see through his half opened shirt. After a moment his own broad hands worked her shirt free of her skirts and dug underneath fabric until he could feel the soft skin of her stomach. It was squishier than it used to be, a few marks left from the stretching it had gone through. His fingers danced across them as hers had done his scars. 

She tilted her head back as he grazed across her skin. Against her neck, she could feel his grin while he kissed the exposed flesh. A moan slipped from her, she couldn’t help herself. 

“So easily excitable.” He mumbled into her neck. That was it, she couldn’t stand any more teasing. Pushing back his shoulders, she made him lay down and worked furiously at his pants. Buttons popped loose of their eyes and with a little wiggling his member, already hard, sprang free. Hers to take. 

“Wait,” Charles tried to slow her down, his hands moved to her hips and a look of worry crossed his face. “You should go slower.” He struggled to explain. Beatrice eyed his length again and had to agree. He was quite large. Taking a moment to think, she remembered a particular trick Arthur had shown her and grinned up at Charles. 

Crawling up his chest, she turned and straddled his face. She could feel hot breath against her thighs as he laughed before wrapping his arms around her thighs. At the first touch of his tongue, she let out a gasping cry and fell forward. His strong arms kept her hips firmly in place while she was forced to catch herself, lest she face plant on his stomach. 

It was hard to not notice that the scuffling had stopped. When she opened her eyes, Arthur was lounging back on the opposite bed, lazily stroking himself as he watched them. John was gasping for air on the floor beside him. She assumed he had lost the wrestling match. 

“Hey Bea,” John said and she tried to pay attention to his words as Charles laved his tongue across her folds and swirled it around her clit. The precision he had was unbelievable, did he have a map to her most sensitive places? “Charles here can do a damn nice trick.” What on earth was the man getting at? Certainly it couldn’t be as impressive as what Charles was currently doing to her. 

Without explaining, John crawled the few feet between the beds and laid his hands on Charles thighs. Beneath her, Charles moaned into his folds and the vibration made her close her eyes with a similar moan. To her immense surprise, she watched as John wrapped a hand around the thick shaft in front of him and slipped his lips down it. 

_What on God’s green earth?_

Fingers dug into her thighs as Charles bucked up into John’s mouth. His tongue was no less fervent, but now moved in time with John’s mouth as he bobbed up and down on the cock. There was skill involved here, this was not a one time event and the thought flooded Beatrice with a heat that had her hips rocking against the mouth working her along. One hand slipped from her thigh and fingers worked themselves inside her, stretching her open. They were rough and calloused and thick inside her. 

Underneath her, Charles went still for a moment, thrusting up into John’s mouth and tense with a moan muffled by her quim. John worked the shaft like an expert, swallowing hard without letting a drop of spend spill. 

Beatrice was so close to release and watching John swallow down all Charles had to give was more than she could bear. But Charles pulled away from her. Strong hands grabbed her waist and moved her down his body. He was still hard. She worked to line herself up before Charles slid her down his shaft. Slowly, inch by inch he filled her until he bottomed out. She was straddling his lap now, facing out towards the other two men. Amazement on her face as she looked down. John was still crouched between Charles’ knees, grinning up at her like a fool. 

“He won’t go soft until he wants to. Charles could rut all day if he tried.” John sounded proud of the fact and honestly, Beatrice was a little impressed. Behind her, Charles groaned as he thrust up into her, hands still tight on her waist. She gasped and cried out to feel him slid in and out of her. 

“Well go on, John. Don’t leave the lady unattended to.” Arthur barked an order, a playful tone in his voice. In response, John bunched her skirts up until he could find her core. It was sloppy, and not as well done as Charles had been, but he still wrought screams from her as Charles worked her from the inside. She supposed a moving target was harder to hit just right. 

Thick thighs rippled underneath her as Charles kept up a pace she didn’t think was possible. In no time, her release built up once again and she cried out, hand ripping into John’s hair as she came. Charles moaned again, thrusting up into her and holding as she rode her climax. Her hips bucked against John’s mouth and she sobbed a bit as she came down. 

Charles sat up, holding her against his chest as she felt her limbs grow loose. John leaned backwards on his arms, seemingly content to be on the floor for a moment. Beatrice gasped for air, moving to hold onto Charles’ arms. They were so solid, grounding her better than anything else. Charles nuzzled against her shoulder, tucking her face against her neck as she tried to calm her frantically beating heart. The warmth of his breath against her skin made her shiver in pleasure. 

“Trixie, you okay?” Arthur asked. She looked up to see him cleaning himself. Apparently he had enjoyed the performance as much as she had. Swallowing hard, she nodded, unable to speak just yet. 

“Seemed like she liked it to me.” John said with a grin, almost a laugh.

“I’m okay. It was,” she finally managed to speak and still her words failed her. “That was,” she continued to struggle to speak. Her brain felt fuzzy and half off. “Good job.” She finally managed and Charles laughed into her shoulder. Arthur threw his head back as he laughed.

“I’ll take it.” Charles said quietly. John groaned and climbed to his feet. 

“I’ll make food. Pretty sure everyone is hungry.” John offered graciously. Of course, food was from a can and warmed over the stove with a few hunks of salted meat tossed in for flavor. 

Gingerly, Beatrice started to pull herself off of Charles. He helped her, hands under her thighs as she moved. There was hardly strength in her limbs to stand and she fell back into the bed, relishing the softness of the old mattress. Charles laid down beside her, his body heat enough to warm the sheets for her. 

“You are such curious outlaws.” She said, after her brain had cleared of its fog. John brought her a plate of food and she managed to sit up on her own so she could eat. Charles remained laying down, an arm still around her waist as she sat. Arthur got up to get his own plate, apparently John was only in the mood to serve Beatrice. “I’m not complaining, mind you.” She was quick to correct herself as she spooned a bit of salted meat into her mouth. 

“Bet you aren't.” John snorted. Beatrice was quick to shift her gaze to him, trying to detect any malice in his words but found none. Only mirth. 

“We are what we are.” Arthur shrugged. “Do as we want, and damn those that disagree.” He flopped into one of the chairs, letting his legs sprawl out across the floor as he ate. 

“I can certainly see the appeal.” She felt a bit giddy, a little giggle popping out of her. Charles didn’t say anything, but his hand slipped under her blouse and slid against the skin of her waist. Quite approval of her. Arthur grinned as she giggled. Outside the wind still howled and Beatrice was glad of it.


	8. Chapter 8

Nature called her sooner than she would have liked. Arthur advised her to hug the side of the cabin and do her business out back by the run in.

“And be quick as you can.” He said as he bundled her up with her coat and his own muffler. “Don’t want you freezing before you get back.” There was a warning there, but it was slight and he was mostly smiling at her now. Not that she really had to be told not to dally outside in such weather. 

The wind stung what little skin was exposed, snow piling up against anything it could find. She walked along the side of the cabin sheltered from the wind, making it slightly more navigable as she went. Her hand stayed pressed against the cabin, if she were to wander away from it, even a few feet, she would be lost in the whiteness of the storm. 

Around the back, she could see why John had called it a barn of snow. Snow drifts had piled high and John had done a good job of digging out the run in. Walls of white covered three sides of the run in. A rudimentary doorway was dug out of the side not facing the wind. The horses were pressed close together but protected from the wind by the snow banks. Once she finished her business. She stepped inside the snow barn to find the little space reasonably warm and took a moment to rub Berry’s muzzle when the creature bumped her with it.

“Sorry for the weather girl. I promise when we get to my ranch, I’ll build you a barn.” The thought depressed her a little. They would eventually reach their destination, alive and whole she was sure, and then what? Her lovely little entourage would be disbanded and ride off. How lonely it would feel, to be on her own again. She supposed there would have to be someone willing to be her companion permenantly. Clearly she wasn’t homely enough to thwart interest from men. Arthur may have been a fluke, attraction grown out of pity but the other men? John didn’t seem entirely capable of pity but he was certainly interested in her. She snorted, perhaps she had read him wrong and he was more interested in Charles and Arthur. He had seemed particularly adept at pleasing men. Better than her, at least. Maybe he could tell her how it was done. 

Her hand stalled on Berry’s nose as her depressing thoughts turned to more athletic endeavors. God, had she not learned her lesson? She should not be having dalliances with men! It would only lead to trouble. But it was so nice. Internally, she argued with herself, not really coming to any actual conclusion. 

“Bea, you okay?” John’s raspy voice broke her thoughts and she looked up to see him standing at the crude doorway of the snow barn. 

“Yeah, I was just looking to the horses.” She said, realizing that her hand was still resting on her patient mounts nose. John seemed to deflate once he realized she was alright. Had he been worried about her?

“They’re fine,” He chastised her, grabbing up her hand to pull her after him. “Come back inside before you freeze.” He must have been worried about her, she realized. Why else would he have braved the storm to find her?

“I didn’t mean to worry you.” She said and John paused before stepping out into the storm once again. He didn’t look at her, but after a second he continued on out into the snow where talk was useless. When they reached the front door, he practically shoved her inside ahead of him. 

“Get lost?” Arthur asked, leaned back in a chair writing in his journal. Charles was reading a book while lounging in one of the beds. 

“Stopped to look to the horses.” She explained as John stepped in. 

“They changed any?” Arthur asked, slightly amused. 

“Nope, four legs, one tail. Still the same.” She managed to joke. “What time is it?” Outside it was still light, but hard to tell if it was mid day or evening. Arthur pulled a pocket watch out of his vest and glanced at it. 

“Quarter to five.” Leaning to the side in his chair, he peered out the window. “Storm still seems strong. Maybe we’ll be inside another day or so. I know you’re probably anxious to get to your ranch.” Was she though? 

Beatrice wasn’t sure what woke her up, but it was certainly still night time. Outside the windows it was black, the only light in the cabin came from a lantern. John sat on the far side of the cabin, lantern hung next to him as he read in the scant light it cast. When Beatrice untangled herself from Arthur, he looked up in surprise. 

“Did the light wake you?” He asked, sheepish. Beatrice shook her head and moved to the stove. Tossing an extra log inside, she poked at the fire until it caught and warmed her hands near the flame. John’s eyes were still on her as she moved, she could feel them without looking up. 

“Arthur didn’t really explain much about what happened.” John said, closing the book he was reading. Beatrice wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at, but was certain he’d get there eventually. “But I mean, something had to have happened.” His eyes dropped to her flat stomach and it sank in what he was getting at.

“Arthur said you have a wife?” She asked over her shoulder, still keeping her body facing the stove. John leaned back in his chair, face a little more cold than it had been. “And a child?” 

“She ain’t exactly my wife, but yeah. I got a family of sorts.” He was guarded. Had she overstepped herself with the question?

“What does she think of your activities with your fellow gang members?” Surely his wife wouldn’t like that. Then again, she was learning all sorts of things about outlaws. Maybe she should read more of those penny dreadfuls. 

“She’s got her own _activities_ she participates in.” He snapped. Oh dear, she had made him mad. “I ain’t the sort to run around behind my wife’s back.” 

“I didn’t mean to imply-“ When she turned he tossed the book down on the cabinets by the front door. Beatrice jumped a bit at the sound of the book hitting the wood. 

“Yet you managed to easily enough.” He glared at her from his seat. 

“This is new for me.” She said quietly. “I didn’t ask because I assumed you were faithless, I asked because I didn’t know.” That seemed to quell his rage a bit. John huffed but his shoulders lost their tension. “Arthur spoke fondly of her, Abigail. He said she fell with child, and it was much like I had.” It hurt a bit to talk about it, but she felt she owed him a bit of honesty. “It seems to have ended better for her than for me, in a number of ways.” John’s face twisted in regret and he looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“That man who attacked you, who you killed?” He didn’t finish the question but he didn’t have to. Beatrice nodded, sighing heavily. 

“I was a fool once, and I suffered for it. And I’m afraid I am being a fool once again with you gentleman.” He wanted to disagree with her, she watched as he shook his head and moved to stand. 

“You ain’t a fool, Bea. We wouldn’t leave you to hang if we were to get you in a way.” He sounded disgusted at the idea that someone would do that. She couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth to stifle the sound lest she wake Arthur or Charles. John’s brow wrinkled in confusion. 

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m still tickled to learn a bunch of outlaws are more honest than an upstanding society man.” Her words made John grin in agreement. 

“I don’t think a person can get to be a society man without at least a little lying.” He said. Beatrice took a breath and stilled herself, still smiling. 

“So Abigail, she really doesn’t care? You watching me like you did?” John shook his head. 

“Not any more than Arthur minds with you,” He motioned vaguely between her and where Charles was snoring in a bed. She wondered what part of the show he had liked the most. “You still looked confused.” He said. When Beatrice looked back, she realized he’d taken a step closer. 

“I suppose I am, by a many number of things. It’s a pleasant confusion, at least.” Her eyes were drawn to the scars on his face, the flickering light of the lantern casting hard shadows. It threw his scars in relief and mindless of her actions, Beatrice reached up to run her fingers across the scar that bit through the bridge of his nose. 

“It was wolves.” John said, catching her hand and pulling it down. “Bea, did _you_ mind me watching you?” He asked, sounding truly concerned with what she wanted. The cabin suddenly felt too warm. 

“I wanted you to enjoy watching.” Her words came out a whisper. “But maybe you didn’t?” John stepped into her space and she took a step backwards, finding herself pressed against the cabin wall in only a few steps. The wood was scratchy against her back, the walls of the cabin having never really been cleaned. John breathed heavy, pressed close against her. 

“Why wouldn’t I enjoy that sight?” He growled. 

“I thought,” Beatrice gasped for air as his hands danced over her clothes, “perhaps you only wanted men?” She had wondered about it, as expertly as he had serviced Charles. He’d certainly enjoyed doing it, at least. John gave a lopsided grin before nipping at her neck. 

“Who gives a shit what’s between their legs as long as they’re enjoying themselves.” His words were quick and jovial. Beatrice believed him. She wasn’t certain she could feel that way about a woman, but it certainly gave a person more choices.

“I didn’t mean to leave you out.” She stuttered as his hands unbuttoned her blouse and slipped under the material. 

“It ain't a completion game, girl.” John snarled, his quick fingers finding a nipple and tweaking it. “You don’t gotta fuck anyone but who you want.”

“I didn’t realize you were an option.” She wanted to explain herself, and she was feeling a little frustrated that it wasn’t immediately easy for her. John did seem to like to frustrate her. One of his knees slotted between her legs and let her rub against him in search of stimulation. 

“I’m _always_ an option.” John growled into her ear before nipping at the lobe. She moaned as his tongue curled around her ear. His finger plucked at her nipple, pulling it to attention before moving to the other one. She gripped at his biceps, anything to hold onto, and felt the muscles shift beneath her fingers. Even through the thick flannel fabric she could feel how hard he was. Not much fat on his slim body but plenty of muscle grown from hard work. How many scars decorated his pale skin?

“You liked watching me suck off Charles.” The words laid her bare. Arthur may have called John dumb but the man was keen enough to see through Beatrice. Fingers ghosted along the curve of her neck, slipping underneath her collar to rub at sensitive skin. “I’ve sucked off Arthur before too, would you want to watch that?” He pinched at her nipple as he asked and she squeaked in response. 

“Yes!” It was a quiet gasp of a word and she realized it was honest only after she said it. John smiled against her skin, biting at her neck once more. She would be covered in bruises by the time the storm passed. How long would they last, she wondered. Her thighs felt damp as she shamelessly rutted against John’s clothed thigh. Surely she was leaving a wet spot on the fabric by now. 

“Just think of my lips wrapped around his hard cock. Oh, I can be absolutely filthy when I want to.” His rasp was inside her chest, making her heart beat faster than was safe. “I think you would like that.” He wasn’t wrong, even if it was hard for her to admit it. Her own imagination was limited in that topic, but it seemed John was eager to educate her. And she was willing to learn. 

The hand on her breast dug in sharply for a moment before returning to torture the nipple again. It was growing sore under his attention and Beatrice whined as he flicked it. She squirmed under him, unused to the feeling but liking it all the same. 

“You want to get off?” John asked, jutting his leg up for a moment and catching Beatrice by surprise. She gasped and dug her fingers into his arm. Nodding, she continued to whine for a moment before speaking. 

“Yes, please.” She begged, rubbing against him in a frantic need to finish. John laughed under his breath. Moving to her other nipple again to make sure both were equally sore, he gave a few tugs before flicking it hard enough to make Beatrice gasp. He looked over his shoulder to the men still asleep in the beds. 

“Not tonight, sweet girl.” He pulled his leg away from her suddenly and her core ached from the sudden loss. Beatrice felt like she could slap him for that but John grabbed both her wrists and held them against the wall of the cabin. 

“I got ideas for what to do with you. I think you’ll like them, but I want you to really want them. I want you desperate. So, here’s what’s going to happen.” He leaned in close and she felt his breath against her neck again, so close his nose brushed against her scalp as he whispered in her ear. 

“If you want to see what I’ve got in mind, you’ll go to bed and keep your hands proper. I’ll speak with Arthur and Charles tomorrow morning, when they wake up. And then we’ll all see exactly how filthy _you_ can be. And I’m betting, you surprise us.” He sounded so damn sure of himself. How absolutely infuriating that he had her figured out so well. She whimpered in complaint and John slipped a hand under her skirts. Somehow, like he could see it clearly, his hand found her clit and gave a light pinch. She squealed but John covered her mouth before she could wake the others. Her hands, now free, gripped handfuls of his shirt. 

“You don’t want to play, go finish yourself off like you want to.” His hand shifted to soothe the pain with gentle motions, working her already wet folds even more. “Easy as that.” 

“You’re a bastard.” She moaned, no heat in her words. John drew his tongue across her neck as he plunged a finger into her aching hole. 

“Yeah, and I think you like that about me.” He said into her shoulder. Damn him, he wasn’t wrong. “I’m a nice bastard, at least. You’ll enjoy yourself either way, I promise.”

If she knew more colorful curse words she would have said them to him, but she didn’t. Instead she drew in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. 

“There’s a good girl.” John crooned. Pulling his hand out from under her skirts, she watched as he licked his fingers clean with a smile that’d make the devil blush. “Get on to bed then.” He said, giving her hip a small push. She stumbled away, worked up and pouting. When she snuggled up beside Arthur, she angrily jerked the blanket around to wrap up in it. John didn’t look at her as he curled up in his bedroll. But he was still smiling. Bastard.


	9. Chapter 9

She’d fallen asleep frustrated, her core aching with want that couldn’t be satisfied with the friction of her legs. Arthur’s arm had pulled her tight against him but she was decently sure John had meant everyone’s hands needed to stay polite so she didn’t ask him for help. Still, she had managed to fall asleep. 

Her own moans pulled her awake, something glorious was happening to her nether regions and she wasn’t awake enough to understand. Her hands grasped around long, lank hair and she managed to wake up enough to realize John was buried between her legs. Instead of chastising him, she moaned his name and rocked her hips up into his mouth. 

He pulled back, grinning up at her while she woke up fully and looked around the small cabin. The light out of the windows was faint, it must be early morning. Inside, the fire in the stove had been built up and the small cabin was cozy now. Beside her in the bed, Arthur was rolled onto his side, smiling down at her. It was a pleasure to be something he watched. 

“Morning, Trixie.” He said softly before leaning in to kiss her. It was a gentle kiss, more loving than anything else and she melted into it. 

“Think it's warm enough to take your skirts off?” John asked from her hip. She looked down at him and considered for a moment. “You can leave the drawers and stockings on. You’ve got these wonderful split drawers.” To emphasize his words, he ran his finger from her front to her back side, underneath the drawers. Her hips bucked against his hand before nodding and working to squirm free of the clothing. John helped her, a wicked grin plastered to his face. 

“Arthur,” John said, expectantly. Without other guidance, Arthur slipped to the floor, his back pressed against the bed and legs sprawled out. 

“What are we going to do?” Beatrice asked, a little confused but mostly frustratingly desperate for more attention to her core. John took her hand and guided her to straddle Arthur’s face. 

“Oh, a number of things. Gonna go slow and see what you like.” She couldn’t entirely trust that devil grin of his, but still let herself be positioned. Arthur’s arms came up to hold her thighs in place as his tongue started working her slit. It was heaven, she closed her eyes and moaned, rocking against his tongue as he settled into an easy rhythm. She could feel herself starting to building to a climax so quickly when Arthur withdrew from her wet folds and a warm, wet stripe ran up her rear entrance. Her eyes flew open and she moaned.

“Oh, no,” The word dragged out of her, long and low, and she felt her mind go a bit fuzzy. It felt so alien to her. It wasn’t a proper! Her hips rocked a bit, even though she didn’t think she should be doing that. Absurd perhaps, considering what she had been doing already, but this was a different kind of attention. Her hands moved to grab onto Arthur but John’s fingers closed around her wrists, strong as steel. 

“Stop.” John’s voice was harsh and sharp. She watched as he pressed his boot against Arthur’s crotch and Arthur grunted a little, freezing beneath her. Letting go of her wrists, John reached out to grab her jaw and held her still so he could stare into her eyes. 

“Does it feel good?” He asked her. Beatrice gasped for air a moment before swallowing and nodding her head yes. “Use your words, girl.” His fingers were iron against her skin. 

“Yes,” The word trembled on her lips. “But it’s not proper...” Her voice was a whine, pathetic sounding and she swallowed again as if she could shake off that feeling. From the other bed, she heard Charles snort and John glared over his shoulder at the man. 

“Who gives a shit. Do you want him to do it again?” John returned his attention to her. He waited as she took her time to answer. 

“I think so.” The words sounded more sure this time and John let go of her jaw. He stomped across the small cabin and dug through his saddle bag for a moment.

“Alright, Bea,” His voice filled the cabin as he spoke. In his hand he held a length of lasso and tossed it to the bed beside her. She eyed the rope a minute before looking back to him. “I’m going to give you a rule and I want you to listen to it.” Stepping in between Arthur’s sprawled legs again, he pressed his boot against Arthur’s crotch. It wasn’t hard to see Arthur’s excitement straining at his pants, and the punched out sound beneath her confirmed it. 

“You can say no all you need to, but we ain’t listening to no right now. You need us to stop, you’re going to say Schofield.” He grabbed up her jaw again, softer this time, pulling her eyes to his face. “You say Schofield and we stop what we’re doing. We talk about it, we make sure everyone is okay. Understand?” She nodded quickly. “Say it so I know you can.”

“Schofield.” She felt better as the word sounded strong in her throat this time. John smiled more, the corners of his wrinkled into crow’s feet. 

“Good girl.” His hand moved to stroke her cheek a few times and some softness in her chest made her sigh. “Now, you move your hands to touch Arthur again, I’m going to tie them up so you can’t.” He pointed to the rope on the bed as he growled the warning. “Arthur, continue.” 

Again, a warm stripe worked up her backside and she moaned at the sensation. It was so good, her eyes fell shut and she lost herself quickly to the feeling of him laving attention to her backside. His hands moved to dig into her cheeks and keep her spread open as he worked. Unbidden, her hands moved to his chest, only for John to grab them. Arthur continued to work her and Beatrice’s attention was pulled in two directions as she looked up at John, almost fearful. 

He wasn’t forceful, but her hands were limp in his has he picked up the rope and began tying the rope around them. Leaving one end long, he used it to pull her hands up and settle them behind her head. For a moment, he fussed over her wrists, running a finger between the rope and skin and rechecking his knot.

“Does it hurt?” He asked and Beatrice moved her wrists a bit to get the feel, even as Arthur pulled heavy gasps of air from her lungs. There was room to move and shift but she couldn’t get her hands free. 

“No,” she finally huffed. “It dosn’t.” John ran a hand across her cheek again, and that soft feeling inside grew bigger. 

“You’re a good girl, Bea.” John’s raspy voice was just in her ear as his hands started working the buttons of her shirt open. “I think you just need someone to tell you that.” He stopped just in the middle, reaching inside the open fabric to ruck her chemise up over her breasts. Once exposed, he pulled them out of the shirt so they were on display before buttoning up a few buttons. They were trapped outside of her shirt now and she felt a hot blush spread across her face and down her neck. John chucked and ran his hand across her chest, watching her blush. 

“Look at you.” His hand slid down to one breast, stroking it for a moment before thumbing at the nipple. It was already pert in excitement as his calloused finger ran across it. Electricity was thrumming just beneath her skin when she felt Arthur move his hand and press a finger against her relaxed hole. She gasped and bucked, but wasn’t sure exactly which way her hips wanted to go. John laughed a little hard and pinched the nipple. 

“Charles, how about you get Arthur some oil. Think we’re going to need it.” Beatrice was vaguely aware of Charles moving about the cabin but her attention was too focused on John as he played with her. His fingers were cruel, quickly pulling her nipples taut and letting them go again and again until they started to grow sore. She moaned as Arthur returned to licking at her, feeling his tongue push against her hole and feeling her hole give way after all his attention. 

Arthur moved a finger against the hole and it pressed in easily, slick with something that made it glide. He worked the finger in slowly, a bit at a time until he pressed it in to the base. Time had lost meaning to her and she had no idea how long it had taken. 

When she felt the second finger start to press into her, she gasped and froze. How far would this go? How far would she let it go? John paused torturing her nipples for a moment and watched her. This was a clear moment she could stop things if she needed. Taking a moment to consider it, she felt Arthur still working two fingers into her. Filling her lungs with air, she rocked back against him and John moved to softly stroking her breasts once again. 

Once the two fingers had been worked into her, Arthur began scissoring them inside her, stretching her open. He worked his tongue against her slit, wet and pooling on him. Beatrice groaned and leaned into John, who gladly held her up as she rocked her hips against Arthur. His hand slipped behind her neck, stroking through her hair in comfort as she struggled to keep from drooling on his shirt. 

“How can this feel so good?” She moaned into his shoulder. “How do you know how to do this?” Her words were more ramblings than anything else. John tightened his hold on her hair, pulling it to tilt her head to the side so he could peer down at her half lidded eyes. 

“That good, huh?” He joked. Arthur pressed another finger into her and she felt too strung out to gasp, only moaning again. She wanted release but also didn’t want this to end. John fumbled with her wrists a moment before they were released from the rope. Her fingers snarled in his shirt as she clung to him. Underneath her face, she could smell him. Mostly unwashed but not particularly unpleasant. His heart was thudding as loudly as hers, how could he be so calm?

“I’m going to-“ She tried to mumble a warning and suddenly Arthur pulled away from her. Her climax faded, just out of reach and she whined in frustration. 

“Not just yet. Arthur? You’re her beau, how about you take this sweet things virginity?” John said, still holding Beatrice’s head against his chest.

“I ain’t a virgin.” She snorted at his comment and John laughed. Arthur squirmed out from underneath her and she could see him wiping at his face with his neckerchief. 

“I ain’t talking about your cunt, good girl.” John’s voice went low and careful. Through the fog of arousal in her brain, she understood what he meant and could only stare up at him dumbly. He stared into her glassy eyes for a moment longer before manhandling her onto her hands and knees. The bed creaked as Arthur climbed behind her, a warm hand running against the soft flesh of her rear. She shivered at the touch when he adjusted her knees further forward and began to press into her loosened hole. 

The sensation was overwhelming, if a person could die from pleasure this would be her end. Without thought, her arms gave out underneath her and she found herself folded up with her ass presented to Arthur.

“Doing okay, Bea?” John’s voice was right in her ear, cutting through the fog. 

“So good.” Her voice trembled, Arthur gently rocking into her bit by bit. There was laughter and a hand found her clit, rubbing it and drawing more moans out of her. He stretched her open, inch by inch with each slow rock of his hips until she felt the scratch of his curly hair against her cheeks. She trembled in want, feeling hands slid up her back. It was John who pulled her up on her arms. 

“I realize you’re probably not able to really focus, but I’m going to ask that you do anyways.” He kept one hand under her chin. Probably for the best, she couldn’t have done much without help. “Arthur looks like he’s second away from finishing,” his eyes moved upward to look behind her and she felt Arthur’s hands tighten on her hips. He was going so slow, she felt every inch of his shaft drag in and out of her. “And I want you to help me get hard, because as soon as he’s done I am taking that ass.” With his free hand, John unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. It wasn’t as thick as Arthur or Charles, but it was long and already standing at attention. 

“Open your mouth, pretty thing.” John said, his thumb slipping to her bottom lip. Beatrice let her mouth fall open, having an idea of what he wanted from watching him. His cock tasted salty mostly, and felt soft against her tongue as he pressed the head in. “Mind your teeth.” His words were kind as he closed his eyes. A pleased hiss drew out of him. “I’m gonna teach you how to do this real well.” He promised. Beatrice was rocked back and forth between the two men until Arthur went rigid and pressed fully inside her with a loud moan. When he slipped out of her she felt empty and wanted him back. Drool was sliding down her chin as John withdrew.

“Time enough for lessons later.” He said as he walked around her, a hand trailing down her back before he climbed into the bed behind her. Her arms trembled again and she sank her head back down to the bed. 

“Oh you pretty thing.” John’s voice was pleased with her and she felt her face grow rosy at his words. A finger ran around her loosened hole before tugging at the edge. “You look wonderful back here, puffy and loose. Dripping.” Even as he spoke, she could feel Arthur’s spend slipping out of her. John pushed it back in and began slipping two fingers in and out of her. She groaned, her ass wiggling without her realizing it. John laughed and steady her hips with his free hand. 

“Don’t you worry yourself, I’m going to wreck you.” He slipped into her easily, hilting himself without resistance. “Arthur is a nice guy, nice and slow to warm you up.” John said, leaning forward and bracing an arm against the bed beside her. “But me? I’m a bastard.” His hips snapped back and then in again, slamming his hips into her ass. Beatrice cried out as she was overwhelmed. John paused, pressing tight into her. It felt as if he was further inside her than anything had ever been. 

“You need to stop?” He asked, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. There wasn’t cruelness in his words, and he waited for her to respond. Beatrice shook her head, rubbing against the sheets underneath her. 

“No.” She croaked. John kissed her cheek before righting himself and pounding into her. He snaked a hand around her thigh and found her clit, his rough touch working her upwards towards climax. She screamed as she came, falling away from him to the bed. A hand on her hip rolled her roughly to her back and John straddled her before stroking himself onto her exposed breasts. Ropey white spend landed across her exposed flesh, cooling quickly in the open air. She groaned and writhed as she rode her climax and began to float down.

When her brain cleared and she could breath evenly again, Beatrice found her head in Arthur’s lap. He smiled down at her when she blinked at him. John was still straddling her waist, but he was concentrating on cleaning her off. Carefully wiping her clean, he began softly tucking her breasts back into her shirt and buttoning it closed. 

“You gonna make it, Bea?” He asked as he pulled the last button through its eye. She had to swallow and found her mouth dry. A canteen was put into her hand and Arthur helped her to sit up as she drank. After a moment she realized John was watching her worriedly. 

“It was good, John.” She said once her throat was no longer parched. “Though my rear’s a little sore.” Arthur laughed and pulled her into his lap. 

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” He said, bending his neck to kiss at her face. A blanket was wrapped around her and she let her head sink against his shoulder. 

“How do whores do this? I am exhausted.” She said, not really thinking as she spoke. John laughed, leaning back on his arms. 

“It’s a skill, but I’d say you have a natural talent.” He admitted, climbing to his feet. “You hungry?”


	10. Chapter 10

Beatrice dozed in Arthur’s arms. He was comfortable and warm, wrapping around her as he and the others talked quietly. Occasionally she’d interject with an opinion but mostly she rested, upon the insistence of Arthur. 

“So the bastard told everyone in ear shot of the money,” He was explaining things. “I don’t doubt we’ll lose any followers in this storm, but that doesn’t mean we won’t pick up more later.” Nothing could have convinced Beatrice that she wasn’t safe right then. Her unpinned hair spilled down her back, over Arthur’s arm he had wrapped around her. John sat in a chair between the two beds, his feet propped up on the edge of the bed Charles was sitting in. 

She thought, vaguely, of what it would be like on her own homestead in Coronado. Any daydream she managed had Arthur in it and she couldn’t make it work otherwise. A devious thought crossed her mind. John had said it plain earlier. If she found herself in a way, they wouldn’t abandon her. Immediately she was ashamed of the thought. It would be a trick, something cruel and dishonest that she could never live with. 

The entire issue was something she would just have to accept, eventually. Let him go, when he wanted. As much as her body would long for him, her heart would miss him much more. A heavy sigh slipped out of her and Arthur glanced down at her. 

“You alright, Trixie?” He asked, a hand rubbing against her side. “You were too rough, John. She’s all worn out.”

“I liked it.” She said in defiance. John smirked, looking at Arthur with an ‘I told you so’ expression. 

“So what if she sleeps all day? Where we gonna go?” He asked, laughing. “When she feels better, we can start on her lessons.” There was that devil smile again. Beatrice took a minute to understand what he meant and when she did her eyes grew wide. John laughed at the face she made. 

“By the time we make it to her home, she’s gonna be an expert.” He promised. Beatrice blushed and buried her face in Arthur’s shirt. She was pretty sure she would die of embarrassment but that wasn’t going to stop her from taking those lessons.

Those lessons were how she ended up on all fours on the bed, Charles gently rocking in and out of her worked up slit while John choked her with his cock. 

“Don’t try to breathe in when it’s in your throat, you’ll gag.” He told her, too late to prevent it from happening. Spit ran down her chin and John had pulled her hair aside to keep it out of her face. “Focus on relaxing your throat.” She looked up to see him close his eyes, pushing further into her mouth until her nose was buried in his pubic hair. 

John had started off the lesson by showing her what to do, using Charles as an example. True to what she’d been told, the large man had stayed hard and was happy to bury himself in her warm cunt as she practiced on John. As he pulled out of her mouth, she twirled her tongue around the tip, pulling another groan out of him.

Apparently she was a quick study. John held her mouth open, a thumb hooked over her lower lip, before releasing himself onto her tongue. It wasn’t a pleasant taste but John covered her mouth and commanded her to swallow it. Easier to swallow than find a proper way to spit. 

“Such a good girl.” He crooned to her, stroking his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes, a blush livid on her face as John praised her. “Think you want to try on Arthur?” He stepped away as he asked, Arthur replacing him.

She reached up, grabbing the shaft at the base. Arthur was thick, already hard from watching her and dripping clear. Running her tongue along the slit, she relished the groan Arthur let out before she took him into her mouth. It was harder to get Arthur as far back, her jaw strained around the girth and more saliva ran down her chin. 

“You look amazing, darling.” Arthur said, his voice tight. Raising her free hand, Beatrice gripped his balls gently. Giving a soft tug before massaging them made his whole cock twitch against her tongue and it seemed for a second his legs might give out. 

Behind her, Charles kept up a languid pace. He seemed to enjoy lazily rutting into her while running his hands over her bare backside. Occasionally he made satisfied groans and grunts, but spoke very little as Beatrice practiced.

“I like it back here just fine.” He’d said when she’d asked if he wanted a go as well. His hand had caressed her rear as he spoke and Beatrice wasn’t sure if her blush was going to spread all the way down her body. 

Arthur didn’t last long, he seemed to lose control of himself around her and she didn’t mind it one bit. Made her feel special. The idea made her giggle. How could a lady not feel special with three men wanting her at once? 

“Oh Trixie.” Arthur moaned, a hand straying to her jaw, holding her still as he started to thrust harder into her. “Darling, I’m close.” He warned seconds before warm thick spend hit the back of her throat. She coughed in response but managed to keep any from leaking out. Arthur nearly collapsed backwards into the opposite bed.

“Oh, I think you pulled my soul out that time.” He mumbled, making her giggle. Charles bucked his hip particularly hard, hitting just right inside her and making Beatrice moan in response. A massive arm reached under her chest and pulled her back against his chest.

“An excellent pupil.” He said quietly into her neck. His hips snapped forward again and she felt like she could melt into him. She wanted to melt into him. Deft fingers found her clit, already swollen in arousal and began circling it. Teasing whines out of her as they moved together. His hand wrapped around her throat, tilting her head back and clamping down firmly. If she had fallen limp her body wouldn’t have moved an inch in his hold.

“Attentive students get rewarded.” His honeyed words growled into her ear. As her arousal rose inside her, she clung to his forearm. Her cries rose in pitch, strangled as they were before she finally crashed through her climax. Between her legs she could feel her own arousal coating the inside of her thighs. Still impaled on Charles' impossibly hard cock, she relaxed back against him as he fucked her through her orgasam. When the flutter of her walls slowed and she grew limp in his arms, he laid her down in the bed gently. 

Charles slipped out of the way as Arthur curled beside her. Surely there was some great atrocity she was committing to feel so happy. Internally, she wanted to cry in some great release of joy but that was too absurd to allow. She wondered instead, how long she could stretch out their company. 

“Storms finally dying.” John spoke. He was standing by one of the windows and studying they sky outside. “We’ll be able to move on by morning. Think you can still ride, Bea?” He drew her eyes, devilish grin in place. She scowled and stuck her tongue out at him. A shiver ran through her though, how would things work once they were back on the road to Coronado?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll be returning to some actual plot next, I swear.


	11. Chapter 11

It was late. Snores filled the cabin as Charles and John slept but Beatrice couldn’t sleep. She rolled fitfully until Arthur’s broad hand rested on her hip, the warmth seeping through her clothes.

“Trixie, you alright?” She couldn’t see him in the darkness but his voice was close to her ear and a his hand rested lightly on her.

It was hard to voice her concern, partially because she didn’t entirely understand it. Several times she opened her mouth to start, then paused unsure where to go next.

“Has it been too much?” He asked, low and quiet. Beatrice shook her head.

“It’s been lovely. I just don’t know how to handle this.” That wasn’t as accurate as she wanted but it was close enough to voice. Arthur wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. 

“How do you want to handle it? We can never speak of it again. Pretend it never happened.” Oh the very idea seized her heart up.

“No, no I don’t want that.” She rushed to say, putting a hand on his chest to stop him. “I just, I never thought I could enjoy myself with men who I didn’t love.” Even as the words spilled out of her, she realized the implications and felt her throat close shut. Her and Arthur had been doing a very good job at dancing around that topic their entire relationship and here she was, just saying it like that with no warning. 

Arthur’s body stiffened next to her and she wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t died. After a long moment of his stillness, she dared to move her hand to his shoulder.

“Arthur?” Her lip trembled a bit and she fought herself to stiffen it. “Arthur I didn’t mean to-“

Before she could continue to try and stick her foot in her mouth Arthur crushed her to his chest. His hands tangled in her hair as he pressed his face into her crown. Beatrice had tentative hope it was a positive response.

“Don’t take it back.” His words were squeezed out and it startled her how much the sound hurt her heart. 

“I didn’t mean to make this something it’s not.” Lord help her she had tried so very hard. “But I think I did. And now it’s so different than anything I’ve even heard of, I don’t know what to do. I’m pretty sure any priest out there would say I’m going to hell.” Arthur’s grip loosened and if she tilted her head she could just make out his features, blurry in shadow.

“If you’re there, it wouldn’t be hell.” His voice made her shiver. “John and Charles ain’t going to do anything you don’t want.”

“What about you?” She thumped his chest a bit. “I like them fine, but you, I-“ her throat closed up again and she couldn’t say it.

“Trixie, I don’t care who you fuck. It wasn’t ever about that.” 

“Then what was it about?” It was so hard to understand. How did Arthur manage to wrap his head around it? His hand slid to her jaw and he found her lips in the darkness. They pressed together and warmth spread through Beatrice, strong enough to make her gasp. 

“You, you and your fire.” He dipped his head again and this time Beatrice nipped at his lips, demanding her way inside. Oh, she would rather kiss him than breathe. 

“I ain’t jealous. You said it yourself, you feel different about me than them. That’s enough. And even if you didn’t. It wouldn’t matter.” She was breathing heavy against Arthur’s chest now, wanting him all the more. 

“Oh, Arthur.” Her emotions were overwhelming her and struggled to keep from losing the ability to breathe. Instead of struggling against herself, she plastered against his body. Digging her hands into his hair, she jerked his lips back to hers. Arthur huffed in surprise at the rough treatment but she felt his hand slip around her.

“Oh my god!” John’s voice yelled out from the darkness. “Just fuck already and shut up!” A pillow hit Beatrice in the back.

“Be quiet.” Charles commanded and then a solid thump sounded, accompanied by a pained cry of John. “Let them figure things out. Bea, you’re fine, sweet girl.” 

Beatrice laughed into Arthur’s chest, feeling the rumble of a silent chuckle in the shake of his shoulders. She had thought they were being quiet enough, but it was a small cabin and without the wail of a storm outside very quiet in the dark. 

“Alright.” She whispered into the collar of his shirt. The tension had broken, even if John was an ass, and it helped her relax. Arthur sighed, content to hold her before they drifted off to sleep. 

They set out early the next morning, wanting to be gone in case anyone came looking for them. Bundled up in her clothes, warm and dry now, Beatrice was riding Berry in the middle with Arthur and John front and back like before. There had been some talk of making it out of the snow before they stopped, but it seemed unlikely. 

Even so, they still didn’t stop for lunch. Instead, she’d been handed dried meat and stale bread while riding. Charles kept to her side as before and it felt right, somehow. Ahead of them Arthur was whistling a tune, the sound bouncing off the snowy hills around them and echoing against the white expanse.

Pausing to let the horses eat a bit and drink their fill from an icy stream, John disappeared to take a piss while Beatrice really only needed to not be in a saddle for a while. She left Berry by the stream with the other horses, keeping sure to stay well within sight of Arthur. Charles followed along a few paces back. He wouldn’t have said he was, but she knew he was staying close from worry. And after her scare with the wolves, she was glad for it. 

“How are things with you and Arthur?” Charles asked, standing above her while she crouched to fill a canteen in the water. Beatrice took a moment to answer. 

“Better than I would have thought.” She finally decided on a reasonable reply. “Is your whole gang like you?” Looking over her shoulder up at him, she watched as he crouched beside her. 

“Some, a lot but not all of them.” He looked down into the water, studying the pebbles that lined the bottom of the stream. “No one’s got a claim on another.” That part sounded lovely. Beatrice nodded, taking a long swig of the ice cold water before filling the canteen again. “Bea, it’s okay to be uncomfortable.” He reached into the water and picked up a rock. 

“I’m not though,” She was getting a little frustrated with them all assuming she’d agree to things they were doing when she didn’t want to. They had been bending over backwards to give her outs, to let her lead the way and despite how adamantly she had been saying she wanted it, they still didn’t believe her. With a groan she turned her head to look at him. “I keep telling you I’m not, why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you act uncomfortable. You act scared.” He had a point, she couldn’t deny it. He wasn’t looking at her now though, he was studying the rock he’d picked up. 

“I’m not scared of you. I’m not uncomfortable with the things you do.” She angrily screwed the cap back onto the canteen before she managed to slosh too much water out. 

“What are you scared of then?” He was annoyingly astute and Beatrice groaned in frustration.

“What happens when it’s over?” It took self control not to scream what she’d been sitting on since her and Arthur left Blackwater. “What happens when I’ve got my homestead and you all are done with me and ride off? I’m left alone wanting and no man in the stupid little hick town can match up to a third of you?” Her jaw set and she looked away from him, out over the white blanket coating the land. “Been left alone before and it was probably the worst time of my life.” Charles was silent for a long time, Beatrice’s knees started to ache from crouching. 

“What do you want to happen?” His voice was calm, low. She marveled at his ability to remain level headed even if she’d just yelled at him. It wasn’t his fault, she should really mind her temper better. Standing up, she slung the canteen over her shoulder. 

“I don’t know.” She said with a sight. “Doesn’t seem like there’s a good solution.” Charles stood up with her. “But I’m not uncomfortable with what we’ve done and I’d very much like to keep doing it. I may suffer for it in the end but I’d like to enjoy myself in the meantime.” A warm hand wrapped around her fingers, pulling her hand up. Charles pressed a cold wet stone into her palm and curled her fingers around it. 

“We ain’t going to let you suffer.” A small smile pulled at his lips and god help her, she believed him. When she returned the smile he walked back to the horses. Beatrice looked down to her hand to see a black stone arrowhead, still shiny from the water.


	12. Chapter 12

Around the fire that night, Beatrice pressed close to Arthur. He had an arm across her back to ward off the cold. They hadn’t managed to escape the snow just yet, but there were on the downslope now and the thick drifts were quickly thinning out. Soon they’d be past the worst of the Grizzlies. There was still two whole states to travel through but it promised much better weather at least. 

Since their midnight conversation, Arthur had gotten more physical with her. Just little things she wouldn’t have thought mattered but did. A hand across the small of her back as he passed by. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A quick peck on the cheek before he went off to do something. It left her blushing like a schoolgirl and she loved it. 

So when they had settled for the evening, a game bird roasting over the fire, she had pressed against him. He’d opened his coat and wrapped one side around her back to share his warmth and she was in heaven. 

“Bea, you got that arrowhead I found?” Charles asked. She took a minute to remember where she’d put it, then pulled it from her pocket. He took it from her and returned to whatever fiddle work he was doing in his lap. 

“It’s a pretty stone, what is it?” She asked, trying to see what he was doing. 

“Obsidian. Rare, hard and keeps an edge well.” He said offhandedly as he focused on the work. “Sharp as any steel knife.” As she watched him work, she pulled away from Arthur a bit to peer closer. Charles appeared to be wrapping a thong of leather around the base of the arrowhead. 

“You going to make an arrow out of it?” She had seen the bow he kept on his horse and wondered how good he might be with it. Probably a fair hand if he bothered to keep a strung bow among his arsenal. Charles shook his head at her question. 

“Nope.” A devious little smile played across his lips and Beatrice wondered if they were all as cruel as John. 

“You men really take pleasure in being enigmatic don’t you?” She snorted at him and pressed back up against Arthur. 

“Yep.” It wasn’t hard to see the little satisfied smirk on John’s face as Beatrice huffed against Arthur. They were all against her clearly. 

That night, as Beatrice lay beside Arthur, enjoying his warmth, she looked up at the canvas of the tent above her. Not a very pleasing sight, but it was too cold to sleep without a tent. She longed for the stars, for a warm enough night to see the vastness above her. 

Outside the tent, a crunching noise came near and her attention was pulled to follow the source, even if she couldn’t see it. Maybe some clumsy creature wandering near the camp in search of food. A predator wouldn’t be so noisy.

Arthur slept beside her, not waking to the slight noise. She could hear one of the other men snoring, hard to place which but it was easy to assume she was the only one still awake. Something told her to be worried as the shuffling outside didn’t fade away. Slowly, she reached for Arthur’s gun. He’d taken his belt off and laid it beside him in the tent, she had to reach over his massive shoulders to reach it. Pressing close against him, she stretched her arm over and felt the grip graze her fingertips. 

“Come out.” A voice said from in front of the tent.When she glanced over, the barrel of a rifle was peeking through the flaps.. Arthur tensed, awake beside her now. Beatrice’s fingers closed around the grip of the gun and swung it around, firing wildly out the front of the tent without thinking. 

A pained grunt came from the speaker and Arthur rolled over to cover Beatrice with his body as the rifle barrel titled back and went off before slipping out of the tent. Chaos erupted outside the tent, more gunshots but all Beatrice could hear was the ringing in her ears for a long moment. 

Lanterns lit up the small campsite, the glow showing through the tent canvas and she looked up to see Arthur looking down at her, worried. His lips moved but it took a moment for her to hear the words. 

“Trixie? Are you alright? Answer me!” His hands gripped her shoulder, one hand ripping the gun from her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She shoved him away, rubbing at her ringing ears. “Just the gun was loud.”

“Everyone okay?” Charles called out. Arthur covered his face for a moment, trying to calm himself down. 

“Yeah, we’re alright.” He said finally. Beatrice stumbled out of the tent, barefoot and in her small clothes to find three men dead around the campsite. One lay directly in front of their tent. Arthur was quick to follow. 

John was in his union suit, shotgun in hand as he looked out into the darkness around camp, wary of any more attacks. Charles was near their tent, toeing at one of the corpses. Beatrice scowled down at the man she realized she had shot. A bullet hole went into his cheek, off center. A lucky shot and nothing more. 

“Thinking we’re sleeping in shifts from now on.” Arthur said, a rumble of disapproval in his chest as he looked at the mess. Charles stepped closer, carrying the lantern as he surveyed the dead man. 

“Who shot first?” He asked Arthur. It was clear he thought Arthur had been the one to fire. 

“I did.” Beatrice said and the lantern was turned on her. “I heard them sneaking up, thought it was an animal for a minute.” Arthur tugged her against him so he could wrap his arms around her. 

“We should get her her own gun.” John called out, stepping over bodies. He still scanned the nearby darkness but had rested his shotgun on his shoulder. Arthur glared over his shoulder at John but that didn’t sway him. “If she’s gonna have people shooting at her, she should be able to defend herself. She got lucky this time.”

“You’ve always relied on luck.” Arthur snapped. 

“And look where it’s got me.” John returned, stepping forward and puffing up his chest. Charles placed a hand on his shoulder, making the smaller man back down.

“We’ll take to sleeping in shifts, staying on guard like we’re used to. It was foolish to think we’d managed to lose any stragglers.” He said, trying to mediate the high tension. John grumbled but hung his head, nodding. 

“I’ll take first shift. Y’all should use our tent,” He motioned to the other tent at the campsite that John and Charles had been sharing. “Yours is shot full of holes.” With a snort that was almost a laugh, he moved to pull boots on before walking the perimeter of camp. Beatrice looked back and saw that there was a large hole in the roof from the rifle that had gone off as well as six smaller holes in the fabric hanging in the front. Her aim had not been very good. 

“It’ll be a bit of a squeeze.” She said out loud, not really minding the idea. 

“We’ll manage.” Arthur said, ushering her towards the other tent. 

“Think you’re okay to sleep?” Charles asked, following behind them. She did feel a bit strung out, like she’d had too much coffee and not enough sleep. 

“Don’t feel tired really, but I imagine the minute I lay down I’m going to pass out.” She admitted. Pausing at the entrance of the tent, she looked over at John as he finished his pass around camp and sat at the embers of the campfire. 

“He’ll be fine.” Arthur reassured her. “Wake me in three hours,” He called out. “I’ll take second shift.” John waved his hand dismissively as he lit a cigarette from one of the glowing embers. 

Inside the tent, Arthur took one side and Charles the other as Beatrice squeezed herself in the middle. Probably couldn’t have felt safer if she tried. Charles pulled a blanket over her shoulders as she rested her head against Arthur’s shoulder. The two men were pressed close to her, there was no other way to fit all of them in. She wiggled a bit to settle herself and regretted brushing her rear against Charles like that. His hand closed on her hip to still her motions before he lowered his head to kiss at her shoulder. 

“Damn lucky shot.” Arthur grumbled as he settled his head above hers. 

“I panicked.” She tried to argue but behind her Charles hummed in disagreement. 

“No you didn’t. If you panicked you wouldn’t have gotten off any shots, lucky or other wise.” As he pointed it out, she thought back to her actions. She hadn’t felt panicked. She’d felt centered, calmer than she should have. 

“I panicked when I realized I didn’t know how to use the gun.” She amended her earlier statement and Charles made a satisfied rumble in his throat. 

“That we can fix.” He said. Even as she struggled to stay awake, her earlier prediction proved right. Sleep pulled her strained mind under quickly, curled between two warm bodies and feeling secure. Later, she half woke as Arthur untangled himself and was replaced with John. 

He was cold from spending time out of the warmth of the tent, and his body held less fat on it. When she accepted him against her, it took a bit more shifting to find a comfortable place to lay her head. Half asleep and not really thinking, Beatrice mumbled something about sleeping on rocks. John chuckled under his breath and moved so she could lay her head against his chest. It was only a short moment of half lucid thought before she went back under. She didn’t even wake when Arthur and Charles switched places, though she did dream of being happily crushed by a bear.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day they rode out of the mountains, still surrounded by wilderness but far warmer than they had been. Beatrice was glad to shed the heavy wood coat that had taken days to fully dry out. Now Charles rode ahead with John beside her and Arthur trailing behind. When he thought no one was looking, he handed her one of his revolvers. 

“Put it in your saddle bag, so you at least have something. I’ll show you how to shoot it later.” He said, glancing over his shoulder as Arthur appeared around a blind turn they had taken. The two men had argued once more while they had packed in the morning. Arthur was adamant that Beatrice not be saddled with ‘the responsibility of a gun’. It seemed fair foolish to her, she’d have to learn how to shoot her own game at some point. Arthur wasn’t going to be around forever. So Beatrice had quickly tucked the gun away, sure Arthur had seen. He didn’t say anything though, and that was enough. 

They stopped for lunch in a small clearing but the mossy ground was damp and Beatrice leaned awkwardly against a rock instead of getting her skirts damp. Arthur seemed impervious to the concern and plopped down on the ground beside her feet. 

“There’s a town not too far away,” He said, looking over a map he had pulled from his satchel while he ate at an apple. Where he had managed to get a non mealy apple, Beatrice wasn’t sure. 

“Charles, you should ride ahead and see what the local rabble knows about Bea.” John said, leaning against the rock beside Beatrice. “Best if we have an idea what we’re walking into.” Arthur grumbled at the idea of separating. 

“We’ll be in town by nightfall, we’ll be fine with two guns for a few hours.” John argued. Arthur sulked but didn’t disagree any longer. Beatrice shook her head at the two picking at each other before standing up and moving to walk off. 

“Where are you going?” Arthur called out, concerned. Beatrice looked at him like he had two heads. 

“Nature calls.” She replied, a little angry he’d made her admit to that. 

“You shouldn’t wander off.” He moved to stand and John pushed down on his shoulder. 

“Leave it, you old worry wart. I’ll go with her.” He said as Charles mounted up. “I’m sure I’ll give you more space than he would.” John had tried to mollify Beatrice when she glared at him. With a huff, she stomped off into the trees, further than she would have gone had she not been trailed after.

“I can piss on my own.” She snapped over her shoulder.

“Never said you couldn’t. Arthur’s got a reason to be concerned though.” John responded, not rising to her temper. “You gotta go this far away to find a place to squat?” He asked, looking around. She huffed once more and paused, looking around in defeat. 

“I was just walking ‘till I wasn’t mad.” She finally admitted. 

“Well, Bea, we ain’t got time to walk all the way to Canada.” John laughed as he spoke. She scowled at him and ducked behind a tree to relieve herself. He was leaning against the opposite side when she finished. 

“Thought you’d give me more space than Arthur.” She chided him. 

“Hey, I didn’t watch, did I?” He smirked. 

“Are all of you such worriers?” Beatrice asked, not quite ready to trek back to Arthur. 

“I’m not a worrier.” John argued, standing up and uncrossing his arms as if he was ready to fight. Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at him, covering her mouth to be polite. 

“I suppose it’s just because you care.” She said dismissively. “Do you care about me, John?” Her tone turned teasing. “Big bad cowboy cares about little old me?” John growled at her, taking her arms and pressing her back against the tree hard enough she suspected he’d leave bruises. 

“How could I not?” He snarled in her face before pressing his lips against hers. They kissed hard enough for their teeth to clack and still didn’t stop. Beatrice parted her lips readily, wanting him to invade her and she could taste whiskey on him even though she hadn’t seen him drink it. 

A hand slipped under her skirts, calloused fingers working her up until she was swallowing moans down. She could feel her arousal coating the inside of her thighs as John slipped his fingers inside her. 

“Do you love me?” The words came out and she immediately regretted the question. Of course he didn’t, she didn’t even love him. But part of her just wanted someone to. Maybe Arthur loved her, she had as good as admitted it to him but he hadn’t returned the words to her yet. Sighing in frustration with herself as John pulled away from him, Beatrice hung her head not wanting to see his shocked face at her question. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean that. It was foolish of me-“ Before she could continue to apologize John hooked his arms under each of her knees, pressing her back into the tree as he rutted up into her. How could someone look that scrawny but be able to manhandle her like she didn’t weigh a thing? The thought alone made her wetter. Her head pressed back against the scratchy bark, cries echoing through the woods. He was growling now, face pressed into her shoulder as they moved together. She’d lost what little leverage she had and now it was all John, raising her up and letting her slide back down his cock in time with his thrusts. 

It was rough, he kept a hard pace and showed no sign of wearing out. Beatrice could feel sweat beading up on her face as she struggled to cling to him, to put off her climax as long as she could. It was no use, he was hitting just right inside her and she could feel her body betray her. She came loudly, no fear of people hearing except maybe Arthur. With an almost angry snarl, John pulled free and painted to pine needles with his come. 

He slowly lowered her legs down, keeping her pressed against the tree as she trembled and threatened to collapse. 

“I love... the way you feel on my cock. I love... how you argue back at me when I’m being an asshole. I love... how willing you are to try new things and how you’re just as filthy as me, sometimes. I _love_ how happy you make Arthur. But no, I don’t love you. Not the way you’re talking about. Not the way I love Abigail.” He was panting heaving into her shoulder as he spoke. Beatrice ran her fingers through his hair, attempting to straighten a lost cause of a mess. “Sorry.” He huffed out the word, not sounding like he was really broken up over it. 

“It wasn’t a requirement. I don’t even think Arthur would say he loves me.” She said once her voice worked again. John laughed, tired and let his head rest against her shoulder now that her legs had stopped shaking under her. 

“Are you kidding? That man is a fool for you.” 

“A fool for me but has made no promises to stay.” She admitted. It hurt to say, even if it was true. John snorted, at what she wasn’t sure. Maybe Arthur’s behavior, maybe hers.

“You should get him to knock you up.” He said, still gasping for air around words. “Then he wouldn't even think about leaving.” 

“It’d be dishonest.” She wasn’t about to admit that she had briefly had the same idea. John was far more upfront about his dark side than she was. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did that to him.” John snorted at her reasoning and stood straight, pecking at her cheek quickly. 

“You’re a better person than me, Bea.” He took her hand and pulled her in front of him, pushing her back towards Arthur and the clearing. 

“That’s not a very difficult task.” She picked up her skirts a bit as she walked, keeping her footing sure as she stepped through the wet mossy stones.

“I might not love you, not like you want, but I do want you safe. I do want you happy. I do care.” John trailed behind her, closer than he’d been following before. 

“Think that’s just called being a friend, idiot.” Beatrice insulted him over her shoulder, John just smiled.

“God, my wife would love you.” It was that devilish smile again and she got the distinct notion she would like Abigail very much as well. Anyone who could have John so besotted must be a fairly wild person themself.

“Had to make it weird, didn’t you?” Her words pulled laughter out of John as Arthur came back into sight. 

“You two were gone long enough.” Arthur grumbled as he climbed to his feet and dusted his pants off. “Did you build an outhouse before peeing?” He seemed in a foul mood, perhaps still on edge from the attack the previous night. Beatrice’s smile dropped at the jab and moved to where Berry was tied. 

“We can go now, if you’re so worried.” She snapped. They were up and mounted, riding single file through the woods without talking. Tension sat between Arthur’s shoulders and bled out into the others.


End file.
